[HP]Timepiece Countdown

The conference room is on the third basement floor.Harry was completely absent-minded as he was led there, his mind preoccupied with the face he had just seen.

It has been more than a month since the trial, and Freya Duran looks not as thin as before.This makes sense, after all, she will be much more relaxed if she is no longer guarded by Aurors; this is also a bit unreasonable, after all, her soul mate is dead, so she should be greatly affected...

Or, because she was a therapist herself, Duran was able to deal with side effects that would normally be difficult to deal with?

If that were the case, Harry could understand why Dumbledore was trying to strike up a good relationship with Duran.She might actually help, in the sense that he has to use Occlumency all the time to lessen the damage he's taking.Maybe he could try to find her in private and persuade her to change her mind...

Harry thought again of the look on the woman's face when she saw him just now.For some reason, every nerve in his body screamed in protest.She knew him too, she knew he had the same views as Dumbledore, and she wouldn't agree to help...

At the same time, Harry had to admit that there was a part of him that was very skeptical - skeptical to the point of conviction - that Freya Duran might not be a Death Eater yet, but she was already infinitely leaning towards Voldemort.From his many tutoring sessions with Dumbledore, he had learned that the Dark Lord could make himself charismatic when needed.He could see something useful in Duran, just as he couldn't see that she could hold off the Dark Lord's onslaught.

Worse, there must be some wizards who still find Voldemort attractive in his snake-faced form, as evidenced by the Order of the Phoenix's growing ranks of Death Eaters...

"...Does Ms. Duran come here often?"

The question drew Harry's attention back.Rolling his eyes, he realized that it was Kingsley who was asking the wizard who had led them, in a nonchalant, chatty tone.

"Not very often," replied the young wizard, with a thick Burgundy accent. "Surely you know she's a healer?" After receiving a nod from Kingsley in reply, he went on: " Although the therapist for soul mates is very remote, they are really useful. Half a year ago, Mr. Minister lost his beloved and almost had a mental breakdown. If she hadn't offered her help, Mr. Minister might not have been able to complete his work properly. remaining term."

Kingsley nodded again, and continued to cover up his solemnity with an indifferent tone. "You mean, Mr. Minister still needs regular treatment or return visits, doesn't he?"

"Oh, before important events, Mr. Minister will ask Ms. Duran to help him with mental counseling in advance to avoid possible unexpected situations caused by excessive pressure. If Mr. Minister is not free, then she will come to the Ministry to complete Her work." The wizard said, snickering in a low voice, "If you want me to say, this is a great invisible benefit! As long as she appears, the look of the Ministry will be completely new!"

He liked her, Harry thought, and it was obvious enough that Duran was well-liked at the French Ministry of Magic.As for today, Duran probably came here for the meeting they were about to attend—although the meeting was a routine one, it was still at the European level, so it should not be neglected.

Then, Harry noticed Kingsley frowned subtly. "That……"

"Here we are, ladies and gentlemen!" The wizard didn't pay attention, and happily turned half a circle in front of a cast iron door, "Please come in, someone will take you to your place inside!"

It would be too deliberate to ask any more, Kingsley could only swallow the rest of his words in his stomach, and strode in.Harry and Tonks exchanged secret glances across the only Auror in the team who was not a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and entered the door one after the other.

**

At nine o'clock that night, Montmartre Square.Specifically, the Muggle one.

When Voldemort stepped through the neon-lit doors of the Moulin Rouge, the grand can-can show had just begun.There were huge crowds of people around the show, and the waiter finally led him to the reserved box.

There was already a woman there.Hearing the movement, she turned around, the wine glass in her hand was shining brightly by the flashing searchlights from time to time. "You came."

Voldemort could see the thighs of the dancers behind her raised in unison, and the scenery under the gorgeous slit skirts was unobstructed, and his brows were furrowed instantly. "I thought we agreed last time that we don't like Muggles."

Duran noticed his displeasure and smiled slightly. "It's just a precautionary measure." She drew her voice slightly, with a charming accent unique to French women, "Compared to Montmartre Square, which belongs to wizards, it is obviously less easy to reveal your identity here."

Although Voldemort still didn't think it was necessary to find such a sensual place, he also didn't need to scare away his possible capable subordinates for such an innocuous matter, so he sat down. "It seems that you are in a good mood today?"

"Probably." Duran smiled back at him and poured him a glass of whiskey at the same time, "but I thought you would care about your problems first?"

Voldemort picked up the square glass with a cool outer wall, but did not answer immediately.

Duran lied to everyone, as he discovered during his trial.To be precise, she does believe that a soul mate is true love for a partner if and only if both are wizards.The presence of that Muggle, Armand Bernard, and their connection would only seriously diminish his wizarding companion's magical abilities.The difference between Muggles and wizards is likely to be the essential reason; but in view of the secrecy law, almost all wizards do not communicate with Muggles, and the probability of soul mates in the crowd is inherently low, so there is no record of this at all.

As the most outstanding witch among her peers, Duran couldn't accept this at all.She couldn't believe that the mere accidental bump into the arm of a male Muggle while walking down the road would cause the potency of her most handy healing spell to drop by several notches.Then, without much struggle, she decided that Bernard would be better off dead than alive.

"I don't need Avada Kedavra to kill him," the woman proclaimed, astonishingly beautiful as poppies bloomed, "I don't have to take any responsibility for this, while people see me as a victim—" She blinked Eyes as blue as the clear sky, "Everyone often doesn't realize that not only sharp blades are weapons."

When it comes to weapons, she's obviously referring to beauty as a metaphor.

A month ago, Voldemort used the identity of a patient to knock on the door of Duran's personal clinic, and it didn't take much effort to verify his guess.But after he saw through the other party's lies, the other party also saw through a part of him. "While you say you have serious soulmate connection issues, I don't see it. I must point out that it's not broken; if you must say it's faulty, it's just too strong, too strong."

This can be seen just by looking at it with the eyes, and Voldemort has to admit that Duran is indeed an expert in soul mate relationships.It doesn't matter where she got the knowledge from—it's probably the weird things in the Department of Mysteries—as long as her judgment is accurate and she can come up with a countermeasure, that's enough.

Even so, Voldemort did not intend to confess his identity until he was sure that the other party had completely fallen for him.After all, being too eager for quick success can be counterproductive. "To be honest, it's quite troublesome, but I've endured it for a long time—" he replied, shrugging helplessly, and at the same time noticed that the woman was watching him intently, "maybe it's not bad for a few days."

There was a moment of silence in the box, and the music, cheers and whistles outside continued. "Really?" Duran whispered in this noisy background, "If I said I saw your partner today, would you still be so sure?"

Voldemort was drinking, and he paused imperceptibly when he heard this.Of course he knew that the boy was in Paris at the moment, and he was being watched.But he still pretended not to know: "My partner? Who are you talking about?"

Duran's answer was to smile more touchingly than before. "Dumbledore's golden boy, of course, Harry Potter."

"Can you spot a soul mate?" Voldemort asked back, genuinely curious.

"I can see a pair of connected soulmates, yes," Duran admitted, "there's something in them, each pair is unique. But that's not the point—" She stared at Voldemort, " The point is, why have I never heard that the Savior had a soul mate."

Voldemort was keenly aware of the dark hints beneath, but he remained calm. "Oh, what's your opinion?"

Duran spread his hands back. "Look, that boy has a soul mate. It can't be a Muggle, because you're sitting right in front of me; and if it's a wizard..." Her relaxed eyes suddenly became sharp, "Then what is the identity of a wizard? Can Dumbledore stop Dumbledore from declaring that the savior has stronger abilities than everyone imagined? With the recent situation in Britain, Dumbledore must know that doing so will help boost their morale, doesn't he?"

It's a simple reasoning indeed, and knowing that he and Harry are soul mates and both wizards - Dumbledore would hide it if and only if the Savior's soul mate was an enemy.Moreover, she didn't mention an important reason that both of them knew well - her acting skills and Occlumency were good enough to fool all the Aurors, but she couldn't fool him.

Taken together, the final question is simple: Is there any dark wizard so powerful?

"Let me take a wild guess," whispered Voldemort, with subtle admiration, "you know who I am."

"I know who you are." Duran repeated for sure.

The eyes of the two met directly.At a certain moment, the noisy sound suddenly disappeared.Duran put down the empty wine glass and put his pearl oyster wand back into his sleeve. "Honorable master." She knelt down at Voldemort's feet neatly, lowered her head and kissed the man's straight trouser leg.

Later, White Square.

Harry didn't know why he was standing stupidly on the curb.As Tonks said, meetings are boring.Coupled with his absent-mindedness, it was even more annoying throughout the day.After dinner, Kingsley is going to visit the Aurors in Austria to discuss the issue of strengthening cooperation.He declined the invitation to travel with him, saying he wanted to relax.Probably because Dumbledore had already said hello, Kingsley did not force him, but instead gave him a map of the wizarding world in Paris, and only asked him not to cause trouble.

Harry took out the map from his pocket again, and studied it carefully by the light of the street lamp.Apparently, he missed some magical landmark he should have been paying attention to, and had to rewind another two hundred feet—

Suddenly, there was a weak electric current crackling up the spine.

The moment he was hit by this déjà vu shudder, Harry jerked his head up.There is a low building obliquely ahead, its scarlet color, windmill on the roof and flashing electric lights make it very conspicuous.The outer walls are full of large paintings of sexy dancers, coupled with provocative rhythmic music, the atmosphere can be described as quite ambiguous.

Under those flashing lights of oversized letters, a man was holding his girlfriend's hand intimately.They appear to be talking, their faces much closer than normal social distance.

Although they were a little far away, Harry still recognized them without any difficulty.Voldemort and Freya Duran, should he say that they must be a good match standing together... He felt that he should do something, rush to separate them or just walk away; Like growing on the ground, life and death refused to move.

As if aware of this urgent gaze, the man turned his head and looked in Harry's direction.Then he turned back naturally and said something to the woman.The woman nodded obediently, stood on tiptoe and kissed the man's cheek, then turned and left.The man stopped where he was, and seemed to be watching her off.

Harry wasn't just stiff now, he was almost numb.The autumn night in Paris is really cold, he should wear an extra coat...

At some point, the man passed through the confused night and stopped three steps away from Harry. "Long time no see, Harry." Voldemort tilted his head happily, "Have a drink together?"