The Handsome Dark Lord[Comprehensive]

Harry's head seemed to be unable to function suddenly, and it stayed blankly on the picture of the man riding past, like the silence in the center of the storm, all the colors and dynamics were far away, and they were crazily spinning in the visible distance.

Suddenly, unconsciously, he tilted a few inches and was thrown violently into a frenzied storm of memories.

Tom's figure appeared in all directions.

The way he looked at him from the darkness of the bar for the first time, the way he walked down the stairs with a towel on, the way he covered his face with the hood of the dark wizard robe he just bought...

The palpitations of familiarity and deja vu finally turned into substance, penetrating through his limbs and bones, brushing his spine from head to toe with a layer of ice.

He shivered insignificantly, and the scar began to emit cold air numbly, and his breath turned into an itching like scratching the heart and brain.

He let out an unbearable groan, knelt down on the ground clutching his scar, his consciousness seemed to be teetering on the edge of a cliff, unable to tell where he was, why he was in pain, and why he was afraid.

"Harry, Harry..."

Dumbledore's voice sounded exactly in his ears, but Harry had no idea what he was talking about.

"Harry...do you see anything?...sorry..."

The cold in the blood suddenly dissipated a little, and Harry propped himself up dizzily, a strong hand supported him to stand up.

The light from the flames painted the office a soft hue, and Harry saw bright orange before his eyes, vaguely aware that they had withdrawn from the Pensieve.

"Harry, it's over. How are you?" Dumbledore asked with concern.

"No...it's okay..." Harry fell on the chair, trying to calm down the dizziness, "...the scar..."

He couldn't help rubbing the scar again, it was like a restless little beast, constantly trampling on the sensitive cerebral cortex, kneading the messy feeling into a messy storm, he almost lost his normal sense of balance, even sitting The chair also feels like the world is tumbling.

Dumbledore gently held Harry's shoulders to provide him with support, and his quiet eyes showed compassion.

He was about to say something when he was caught by the movement of the fireplace.

Professor McGonagall's head loomed above the flames, shouting eagerly: "Something has happened to Aberforth! Voldemort has attacked the Hog's Head!"

Harry's heart skipped a beat, he shook his head from the damn dizziness, and Dumbledore exchanged glances, seeing the old man's palpable concern.

"Leave me alone, sir," said Harry first.

"Albus!" Professor McGonagall urged.

Dumbledore gave Harry a deep look, "Wait for me here."

He grabbed a handful of Floo powder from a box by the fireplace, Professor McGonagall retreated, and Dumbledore walked into the flames to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry was left alone in the office.

The only sound in the air was the crackling and crackling of the flames. Fox's small figure trembled and moved uneasily on the perch. Several portraits on the wall were vacant, and the rest of them gathered in twos and threes to chat. whisper.

All Harry could hear was his own heartbeat.

Boom.Boom.Boom.

Like a huge drumbeat from the sky.

Tom -- Tom Roald --

He said the name silently, and reached for the phone in his pocket.

The beating of the scar was almost cheerful, and the heat of the whole body seemed to be concentrated there, forming a sharp contrast with the cold fingers.

The sluggish click sounded word by word, and Harry took more time than usual to edit the text message and press send.

[What are you doing? ]

It was the only thought circling in his chaotic brain.

#

In the middle of the night, the disaster came suddenly, and it came to the just-closed Pig's Head Bar with the force of thunder.

Apparition bursts sounded outside the door one after another, and in less than a second, the door of the bar was blasted open, and a team of wizards in black robes and silver faces broke in.

Aberforth called out the Patronus without hesitation, and the silver goat appeared and flew straight through the roof.

The circle of Death Eaters also formed, and a dozen wands were pointed at him in unison.

"What are you going to do?" Aberforth raised his wand and roared without showing weakness, "It's closed, get out of my bar!"

Countless spells were shot at him unceremoniously, but Aberforth's defensive magic couldn't resist them all, and was unfortunately hit by the Stiffness Curse.

The Death Eater who had shot him let out a short cheer, but the others did not react, but made a way out of their own accord.

Aberforth's heart skipped a beat when the only tall wizard without a mask stepped out.

His features were hidden in the shadow of the hood, well concealed by the Confusion Charm.But Aberforth already knew who this person was.

"Let us spare us the useless pleasantries, Aberforth Dumbledore."

Voldemort raised his yew wand and aimed it at Aberforth's vitals.

"Tell me the full prophecy, and everything about Dumbledore."

Aberforth said angrily, "The money's all in the counter, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Voldemort said in a soft voice, "This is your choice...Paris."

A Death Eater wearing white gloves stepped forward, forcefully squeezed Aberforth's mouth open, and poured a bottle of Veritaserum into it.

Aberforth's pupils contracted suddenly, and he tried to struggle violently, but was firmly fixed by the stronger magic of the yew wand, and even the nerves of his tongue were numb to the point of being unable to move.The liquid flowed through the uncontrolled throat, and a lot of it entered the nasal cavity, choking him to the point of suffocation.

Voldemort waited mercilessly for the potion to run out before weakening the magic.Aberforth immediately coughed violently, and flushed skin could even be seen on his bearded face.

"Master, the portrait has been obtained." The Death Eaters who came down from the second floor came to report.

Aberforth looked up sharply, glaring at him viciously.

Voldemort strengthened his magic, and his posture froze.

"Very well. Continue the search as planned. Paris will come with me."

He grabbed the back of Aberforth's neck with one hand, threw half of his robe to Paris, and left without saying a word.

Tinta Wine Castle has an underground prison for prisoners of war. It is surrounded by weak water without driftwood. Only the altar in the center can stand. The ceiling above the head is five meters high, and the narrow skylight shines in from there.

Aberforth's wand was confiscated, and his hands were handcuffed to chains in the center of the altar.The veritaserum potion had begun to take effect, his eyes were straight, his muscles were relaxed, and he sat weakly on the ground.

Palis guided him to tell the secrets he knew, but the old man was extremely stubborn. Even under the effect of Veritaserum, he struggled to control himself to speak lightly, which caused great obstacles to Palis's mission. .

The Death Eater let out an annoyed breath, pulled out his handkerchief impatiently, and wiped the fine sweat from his brow.

The Dark Lord chuckled behind him, "It's okay, Paris." He came over, leaned slightly, and grabbed Aberforth's hair to force him to look up. "Keep asking, I can find the answer myself."

The red eyes are sharp and powerful, as if they can see through Aberforth's eyes through thinking.

Do not--

Aberforth tried to close his eyes and set up Occlumency, but the secret came out of his mouth uncontrollably, and he had to do his best to modify the language, so that Occlumency was easily shattered like a piece of paper .

Death Eaters' special veritaserum, intelligence experts' patient interrogation, and the world's most powerful dark wizard's mind-taking.

His heart was full of despair.Light and Phoenix will die at his hands.

For a moment, Voldemort smiled with satisfaction.The effect of the confusion spell gradually faded from his face, and Palis accidentally spotted it, and the voice of the question paused for two seconds.

But that astonishing smile was fleeting, and the Dark Lord suddenly raised his eyes, looked into an unknown distance, and frowned slightly.

"Master?" Palis asked tentatively.

Voldemort was silent, closed his eyes and felt for a while, then murmured inaudibly: "This is earlier than I expected..."

Palis held his breath, realizing it wasn't time for him to interject.

When he opened his eyes again, Voldemort's expression had returned to normal.

Palis was startled secretly, and those iconic red eyes turned black.

Aberforth was thrown down, and Voldemort turned away without hesitation, "Wait for me to come back."

Before the words fell, the person had turned into a cloud of black mist and drifted away.

#

Harry clutched the phone tightly, staring at the screen without blinking, as if it would prompt the person on the other end of the airwaves to reply quickly.

It's late, so it's no surprise there's no reply.

It was a strange thought that came to his mind.

Obviously not so.

Not...for such a reason.

The phone vibrated, and Harry nearly dropped it in horror.

He swallowed, and clicked to reply.

[work overtime. ]

Harry's stomach clenched uncomfortably.

The same information as usual, seems to have a deeper meaning at this time.

He typed the text message again, his fingertips were a little uncontrollable.

[Where? ]

The reply this time was incredibly quick.

[Home. ]

Harry stood up from the chair all of a sudden, as if he had been injected with strength, he resumed his long-accustomed typing speed, and quickly replied: [I'll find you! ]

He strode towards the suitcase, took out the door key accurately, and started it without hesitation.

Before disappearing completely, it seemed to hear the discussion of the portraits.

"Didn't Dumbledore ask him to wait here..."

"Gryffindor!..."

He has turned up at a high-end flat in central London.

The living room did not turn on the lights, and the starry sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows shone a faint light, covering the familiar furnishings in the room with a veil.

Harry saw the screen lights up on the sofa at a glance, and a hazy black figure was sitting there.

He walked over step by step, his heart beating faster and faster; at the same time, there was a faint, reckless satisfaction.

He misses him.

The phone was shut with a snap, and the last bit of light in the living room disappeared.

But Harry was close enough to see the man's delicate and beautiful features in the moonlight.

Almost identical to Tom Riddle in the Pensieve.

The scar was itching again, but Harry ignored it and met his eyes without blinking.

Neither of them spoke.

Harry's heart sank.

He tried to wait for a long time—maybe tens of seconds, maybe only a few seconds, but he felt it was a very long time—but he didn't get any words.

Finally, Harry could only speak with a slightly hoarse voice: "Who... are you?"

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I was taken aback, as if I never thought I would ask this question.

Those dark eyes seemed to grow deeper.

"Close your eyes, Harry," he said softly, "I have something to show you."

Harry looked into those eyes deeply, not sure if he could really follow suit.But his eyelids sank on their own initiative and slowly drooped.

After a while, he closed his eyes completely.

Darkness poured in from all directions.

He seems to have returned to the time when he faced the Hungarian Horntail in the fourth grade. His consciousness strongly sensed every corner of his body, his heart was beating violently, and his skin was tingling with tension and fear... At the same time, he seemed to be pulled away from this place, Looking down at the living room in the boundless emptiness, I could feel the slight rustling of the fabric when the person on the sofa stood up, the weak airflow and the faint temperature approaching him.

He realized that he was facing the fangs of the beast this time, and regretted closing his eyes.

But his eyelids closed even tighter, trembling slightly, for fear that he would open them early.

My mind once again lost its content and turned into a still swamp, all thoughts were silently swallowed.

Until he suddenly felt light in his pocket, and his brain immediately reacted——

There's a wand in there!

His blood was almost frozen, the sense of imbalance returned like a thunderstorm, and his long-suppressed thoughts broke out like a tsunami——

He shouldn't believe--shouldn't be stupid--it's wrong--horribly wrong--

He's - how could he not see - a total fraud -

He will die here!

Harry staggered a step with staring eyes, and found something in his hand after a while.

He stabilized his figure, took a closer look, and really stopped breathing.

Yew wand.

In the cemetery, the grass outside Azkaban, the perspective in the scar connection, seen in countless nightmares, pale, representing the horror of the Dark Lord, the yew wand.

"Is this explanation sufficient?"

Harry looked up, transfixed, to see him measuring his holly wand with bony fingers, eyes half down.

Feeling Harry's gaze, he raised his eyes, from which the deep black receded, and the bright red poured in like blood.

Voldemort.