The Handsome Dark Lord[Comprehensive]

Slughorn walked over to look at the appalling sleepy beans on the savior's table. The pearly white beans that were supposed to be sliced ​​for juice were cut into pieces, big and small, but not qualified flakes. What kind of juice is extracted by the method, the material is considered wasted.

Less than 10 minutes before the end of get out of class, Hermione next to Harry was already staring intently at the soup in the pot waiting for it to be completed. If he continued at Harry's progress, he would definitely not be able to complete this Hell Potion.

The processing of sleepy beans itself is the difficulty of this soup, and Slughorn set the time limit to test the students' level.In fact, Harry is no exception. Most of the students in the classroom are fighting with Sleepy Beans. Even the individual students who have completed this step have wasted a lot of materials. There is no reason that only the Savior should be helped.

But then again, this is his class.In terms of personal emotions, Slughorn always favors those talented and outstanding talents, and likes to provide them with some moderate help to enhance their mutual relationship.The famous savior is of course among them.

The only problem is, Tom Riddle was once on the list.

How many years ago, he didn't understand the cold-blooded cruelty behind the elegant demeanor of this proud student; later he understood, but there was only room for him to stand in isolation; He hesitated like a shadow of a bowed snake...but he never dared to confront him head-on.

"Well, Tom... I mean, Mr. Riddle..." Slughorn changed his words unnaturally after Tom's flat glance. "Perhaps, Harry can..."

"I'm not very good, Professor."

Harry said bluntly that he didn't want to embarrass Slughorn.

"These sleepy beans are too hard to cut."

Slughorn met his eyes, slightly calmed by the calm inside, coughed, and then said with a stiff smile: "Oh, of course, Mr. Riddle's potion level is one of the best... then Trouble."

Tom just looked at Harry and said, "No trouble."

He stood beside Harry, swept his chopped sleepy beans into the trash can, and counted fresh ones out of the glass jar, and it was not until Slughorn lumbered away that he said to Harry: "Wipe the table clean."

Harry stared at his movements, and wiped the table as he said, but he was a little absent-minded.

Tom's fingers were long and beautiful, and when he held the knife, it was like a beautiful sketch.His technique is light and proficient. The small knife, which is difficult to use at ordinary times, is suddenly sharp and flexible in his hand. When it is lightly scratched across Sleepy Bean, a thin crack appears on the pearly white skin.Even though the skin is still full of the tender blood color of a young man, his movements are clean and neat, which is refreshing to watch.

Such a Tom was so fresh, Harry's eyes were a little hot, and he didn't say anything for a long time.

"It's better to have a colander, so you only need to collect the juice of two sleepy beans."

Tom turned his head and said, as if he was really just an enthusiastic classmate.

Harry looked at him with burning eyes, a little annoyed at his indifference: "I didn't!"

Tom looked at him for a while, suppressed a smile, and asked in a low voice, "Did you take gunpowder?"

At this moment, Harry felt a little flustered. He threw away the rag in frustration, and reached into his schoolbag to look for the filter holder.

Tom was not in a hurry, and waited for him slowly, with an almost invisible smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.He knew that at least half of the eyes in the classroom were focused on this side, and it was best to do some superficial work when it was not necessary.

Different from the description in the textbook, Tom put the sleepy beans on the colander, with a measuring cup underneath, and slowly rolled them with the back of a knife. The juice squeezed out along the gap just made, and fell into the measuring cup without leaking. half of the required amount.

"There is one more, you come."

Harry took the knife, carefully cut a slice along the grain of the Sleepy Bean according to his instructions, put it on the colander and crushed it.This method is perfect, it doesn't waste a drop of juice, it only uses less than half of the ingredients, and it's very simple and quick. After processing, there is no residue on your hands, and the workbench is clean. It makes people feel the joy of processing potion ingredients. .

Hermione was staring at them completely at some point. Her soup had never reached the desired color. She should have tried to stir or adjust the heat, but she couldn't take her eyes off Harry's workbench.Under Tom's guidance, her friend processed the materials in a leisurely manner, which was completely different from the textbook, but the efficiency was surprisingly high. In the end, it only took her less than half of the time to rush and slow - which is not bad. The first time he was competing with Sleepy Beans by himself-you know, she had previewed it in advance!

After the material was put into the pot, Harry had completely lost the textbook.The experience just now told him that the one next to him is a walking encyclopedia, the kind that is constantly updated and strengthened with the times, far surpassing the existence of textbooks.

The holly wood wand sank into the cauldron, stirred it gently twice, and was about to change direction when it was held by the other hand.Harry froze slightly, and Tom leaned very close to him, gently clasping his hand, stirring the wand in the cauldron.

"Go on, five laps."

Harry lowered his eyes, stirring with his strength.According to Tom's efficiency, he had a hunch that the potion would be ready soon.

Sure enough, after five laps, Tom stopped his movement and turned in the opposite direction.

"One lap."

The potion changed color.It is the perfect state described in the textbook.

Slughorn seemed to have been waiting for this moment for a long time, and he stepped over from not far away, and the voice of surprise was a bit exaggerated: "It's perfect, Mr. Potter, Mr. Riddle! Gryffindor and Slytherin Five points each!"

Gee.

Tom frowned slightly, glanced at Slughorn indifferently, and let go of his hand a little annoyed.

...should dawdle a bit.

His body temperature went away, and Harry stared at the silently swirling potion in the cauldron, with only one thought on his mind——

This is the first time they have been so close since the school feast.

With the efforts of Dumbledore and various professors, the riots in Slytherin were gradually suppressed, but the fanaticism was not lost at all, but it became a less conspicuous way, and happened more inside Slytherin, Not enough for outsiders.

Nevertheless, as Tom's presence in the classroom increased, he also gained a large number of admirers in the other three colleges.If it wasn't for Malfoy, Nott and the other senior Slytherins who surrounded him all the time, playing the role of driving away and repelling foreigners at any time, I don't know how many people would surround him to ask questions.

Even so, from time to time, some suspiciously flattering gifts appeared around him.Even the password to the Slytherin lounge became so popular that someone reportedly sold five Galleons privately.Of course, these are all rumors, and no one knows what the real situation is.But there are some legendary real events that are known to the whole school.

For example, in a transfiguration class in the senior year, someone picked up the parchment that Tom dropped on the floor before Malfoy and Nott and the Slytherins.This is not the point, the point is that when it was returned, it transformed into a flower in Tom's hand.

...That's all, that's all.The key is that the person who did this was a seventh grade boy named Ravenclaw.

Ever since the chaos in Potions class, Hogwarts has banned students from messing around.This Ravenclaw committed crimes against the wind entirely by relying on the audacity of a skilled man.Professor McGonagall had half of his attention on Tom's side, and immediately discovered the situation and drove him out.

But this added drama to the matter, and it spread throughout Hogwarts by the end of the day.

"Are they all crazy?" Ron couldn't understand, "It's just a memory!"

He sat across from Harry, but spoke to Neville, apparently still bearing Ginny's grudge.

"But... Professor Riddle is very interesting," said Neville.Ron was dumbfounded: "Interesting?" He was so horrified that he forgot his hatred, and subconsciously confirmed to Harry, "Interesting??"

Harry's porridge was half eaten, and he couldn't swallow it. He twisted his expression with difficulty, unable to express his opinion.

Neville said hesitantly, "No professor has ever created his own memory... Everyone is curious."

"...I don't believe it," said Ron. "Just curiosity can have this effect? ​​How about a Ravenclaw seventh year?"

"Okay, Ron." Dean interjected impatiently. Since he broke up with Ginny, he has completely lost his scruples about Ron, and he even dislikes him a bit. "You can never admit that others are better than you. You're welcome. Of course I can't understand a perfect man like Riddle."

Harry had just swallowed the porridge and almost spit it out again.

Ron's feelings were not much better, and he couldn't even think of breaking up with Dean. He just stared at Harry, the only one who could understand him, and couldn't say a word.It's a pity that Harry is staring at Dean suspiciously, with no inclination to express understanding.

Ron wanted to say something, but then remembered that he was in a cold war, so he buried his head gloomily and drank his porridge.

Due to the tighter Quidditch schedule this year, Harry had to mobilize everyone to practice at the end of the cold winter.Fortunately, the excitement of the World Cup qualifiers made the team members enthusiastic. Even on weekends, they came to the stadium to practice flying under the snow that had not yet melted away.

The only one who couldn't make it was Ginny.Hermione came here on purpose to tell him that Ginny was going to quit the team temporarily.

"Ginny has been on leave for several days." The cold wind made her nose turn slightly red, and she breathed white air in the gold and red scarf, "I just went to her dormitory to check on her in the morning, and she obviously lost a lot of weight. I'm afraid I can't eat well now, let alone practice."

Harry nodded understandingly: "Understood, let her have a good rest. The team has me."

Ginny is a substitute Seeker. It was originally arranged to smoothly hand over the position of the team after graduation, but under the current situation, the two cannot meet at all. Temporarily withdrawing is the best way.

Harry tried to turn around and get on the broom, but Hermione held him back.

She looked at him, and the words in her eyes were still unwilling to utter.

"Don't worry, Hermione." Harry finally patted her. "Ginny will be fine, I promise, okay?"

"Harry..." Hermione said, "I'm not worried about the present, I'm only worried about the future... If Ginny doesn't give up, how will the You-Know-Who torture her...Harry, remember, make her give up."

"Hermione, I didn't even know she liked me before." Harry sighed helplessly, "If we could like someone other than that guy, we wouldn't have these troubles long ago."

Hermione was slightly moved, she was silent for a while, and said, "Don't forget to meet Dumbledore today."

"Of course..." said Harry, but his eyes were fixed behind her.

Hermione turned her head, and a group of green uniforms came towards this side.Almost all the most popular boys and girls in Slytherin are gathered here, but the most eye-catching one is of course the 16-year-old memory of the mysterious person.

He was already very tall, his figure and appearance were impeccable, and he stood out even more in an environment where everyone was wearing the same clothes, as if the school uniform was just tailor-made for him.

When they were a few meters away, most of them stopped, except for Draco who followed him to Harry and Hermione.

"Granger." Unexpectedly, it was Draco who spoke first, "I have something to tell you."

He made a gesture of invitation, Hermione glanced at the mysterious man who was staring at Harry, understood that Draco was only here to help the boss clear the scene, and followed him to the side without saying a word.

There were only two people left, and the atmosphere suddenly became ambiguous.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked.

Tom took his wrist and asked an unrelated question: "Cold?"

He took off Harry's gloves, the cold wind made his fingers red inside, and he wanted to close them unbearably.

"It's okay." Harry explained indifferently, "I forgot to put on my gloves just now, and I haven't recovered yet."

When riding a broom, it is common for the skin to be painful and red due to the airflow, even in spring and summer when the weather is pleasant.This coldness is nothing.

The yew wand appeared, aimed at Harry's palm.

Now Harry didn't feel any sense of crisis about it pointing at him.Sometimes he still finds it unbelievable that this wand was once the source of his nightmares, covered with countless blood, carrying endless sins, and capable of releasing the most terrifying black magic at any time.

But it just injected a warm breath into his palm at this time.

"Sometimes I want to just lock you up." Tom held the back of his hand, patiently dredged his stiff veins, and suddenly threw out a dangerous speech, "Weasley, Granger, Quidditch...and the cold wind , no one wants to touch you."

Harry raised his eyes to see his side face close at hand, the cold wind merged with his breath, or maybe they were better than each other, in short, it was unpredictable.But his fingers had the opposite flow of heat and regained their flexibility.

Harry lowered his eyes, took off the other glove, and replaced his left hand, which was red with cold.

"Thank you."

Tom paused, and looked up at him. There was no fear in the eyes of the savior, shining brightly, like the winter sun.

He couldn't help but whispered: "...you don't even want to touch them."

Harry didn't become terrified as he expected, but instead stared at him for a while, "You mean, Headmaster Dumbledore can touch him?"

Tom's expression was blank for a moment, and it became very scary, "Harry—"

Harry immediately smiled and held his hand back: "Just kidding! It's rare that you didn't name the headmaster. I thought your relationship was finally going to turn around."

Tom sneered, and Harry clearly felt that the tip of the yew wood staff was getting cold, and his wrist was gripped again, and it was painful.Harry didn't think much of it, and even wanted to hug him a little bit, and it didn't matter if he was pushed away - that was very possible - but the Slytherins not far away made him hesitate.

"...When are you free?" Harry glanced at them and asked in a low voice, "I want to talk to you."

"Looking for me?" Tom's stick tip brushed against his skin, and Harry had the illusion that his hand had turned into a sleepy bean, and the yew wood was as cold as a knife's edge, "Are you sure you want to talk to me? "

Harry was silent for a while, then said, "If you are the diary, where is Voldemort?"

Hearing this question, Tom smiled lowly.

"You remember him?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"

"It's nothing." Tom lowered his eyes inexplicably, smiled vaguely, and restored the warmth of the tip of his staff, "I'm free anytime, Harry, in the prefect's dormitory in Slytherin."

"...Since when did Slytherin have a prefect's bedroom?"

Harry didn't remember to ask until he let go of Harry's hand and was about to leave.

"There wasn't," said Tom slowly, ". . . now there is."

Harry flew into the sky again, his mind was full of Tom's figure just now, his specious words, and the heat in his palm.

He never knew the true relationship between Horcruxes and Voldemort, but his second-year experience always made him feel that they were the same, at least unified in will, able to act together without hindrance...

But Tom's words were suspicious.

With all kinds of thoughts in Harry's mind, he couldn't help but say it in Dumbledore's office.

"...they seem to be different."

Harry sat in the silver mist of the headmaster's office as Dumbledore behind his desk stirred a fresh lemon-honey snow topped with three spoonfuls of sugar, bemoaning the drink he had just been refused.

"Do you think it possible, sir? The diary is restored."

Dumbledore put down the teaspoon, thought for a while and said, "It depends on how you define restoration, Harry. As we can see, from a material point of view, the diary has indeed become the same as it was before it was destroyed. But it is still stored Does it hold that piece of soul—I don't think so. Have you tried it, and is it as invulnerable as it used to be, Harry?"

Harry subconsciously grabbed the diary in his pocket and shook his head in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I..." He couldn't continue, and looked at Dumbledore pleadingly, but the old headmaster didn't reveal it sympathetically this time, but just stared at him for a while.

Harry hung his head in embarrassment. "……I can not."

Dumbledore remained silent, looking up at the portraits of past principals at the top, without forcing him.

Harry looked up suddenly, and said with difficulty, but with absolute certainty, "I can't do that to him anymore, sir..."

At that moment just now, he remembered a crucial sentence.

A sentence Voldemort once said to him himself.

—You've already killed me once.

Diary, really dead.

If it really burns, the diary will be wiped out.