The Handsome Dark Lord[Comprehensive]

Voldemort let go of him, turned and stepped aside.Harry followed subconsciously, watching him silently as he opened the white wooden door next to the bed. For the first time, he knew that behind this door was a wardrobe with a huge space, which could directly accommodate four or five people.

Voldemort walked in and closed the door without a word.

Harry stared at the cupboard door foolishly outside and asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Change," Voldemort replied absently through the cupboard door.

…Harry was kind of grateful he wasn't laughing at his own question.

The small movements ended quickly, and the people inside seemed to be familiar with this set of procedures.

Harry sucked in a soundless breath as the cupboard door reopened.

He put on a dark wizard robe, and the iconic wide hood covered half of his face, completely revealing the image of Voldemort.

The soles of Harry's feet seemed to be glued to the floor.

A mocking arc appeared on the lips under the hood. "You haven't left yet?"

His attitude made Harry feel uncomfortable for a moment, as if something had gone bad in the last few minutes.

"I..." the voice came out, and Harry realized how dry it was. He paused slightly and moistened his throat, "Where are you going?"

"Anyway, it's not your Professor Dumbledore." Voldemort said coldly, waving his wand to restore the bed, "...it's useless here."

His expression was completely hidden in the shadow of the hood, and even the shape of his lips could not be seen clearly.

Harry's heart clenched at those words.

The messy bedding quickly returned to itself under the action of the silent spell, and even Voldemort's Muggle coat from last night stretched and hung on the hanger by itself.

All traces of them have been wiped out.

Voldemort lowered his wand, seemingly ready to Apparate.

Harry reached out and grabbed his wrist, the one that wasn't holding the wand.

Voldemort didn't break free immediately - in fact, it was his acquiescence that Harry managed to grab - and watched Harry's hand grimly from under the hood.

"Finally realize that I want to destroy the world, ready to fulfill the responsibility of the savior?"

"...Don't destroy this place, can you?"

Harry's voice was so low that if it weren't for Voldemort's amazing hearing, he couldn't hear what he was saying at all.

"If you don't want to use it, I can buy it...and that phone...and your car..."

He let go of his hand gradually, and finally raised his head and asked, "You won't come back again, will you?"

Harry couldn't see Voldemort's eyes, but could only look at his graceful chin and lips. Only half of the high bridge of the nose was exposed, making this face even more attractive.

Voldemort didn't answer his question, and Harry stared at him doggedly, waiting for a definite answer.

"And you, Harry?" Voldemort asked him finally. "Are you coming back?"

"...Yes." Harry's breath revealed a trembling fragility, and his eyes were fixed on him without blinking, "Even if this gives you the perfect place to plan to kill me."

Voldemort lowered his head and leaned closer to Harry, gently caressing his neck with his released hand.

"...you look like...you want me to kill you."

He was close enough that Harry could see the red eyes, glowing in the shadows, scrutinizing him.

"...Maybe I am." Harry let his cool fingertips run across the skin near his vitals, "That will at least stop my current chaotic thinking."

Can't kill him, can't stop him, want to see him again.

His longings were so clear that not even guilt could swallow them.

Harry didn't know how he would face Professor Dumbledore and his family and friends like this.

Just a few hours ago, Dumbledore also personally told about his care and care for himself, and he said that he never thought that he would put anyone in his hands like this.

Harry wanted to tell him that he respected him in the same way.

But now he felt that he could not look Dumbledore's blue eyes at all.

"Harry, I can read your mind." Voldemort's voice brought him back to reality.

It was difficult for Harry to discern the mixed emotions in it.It sounds neither pleasant nor annoying.

"... Oh." He said dryly, and began to repeat the question he wanted to know over and over again in his mind.

--Where are you going?Will Aberforth die?Will you still come here?Why don't you kill me? ...

Voldemort let him go, and the tip of his wand brushed the air, revealing a string of fluorescent time numerals.

"It's almost dawn, and Dumbledore must have found that you left. How long do you think he can endure without mobilizing more people to find you?"

Harry moved his lips, thinking to himself - it couldn't be any worse.

"We'll have plenty of time in the future, Harry," said Voldemort, with a trace of helplessness Harry was familiar with. "As long as we all want to come back, I'll tell you these questions slowly."

Harry stared at him closely, afraid he had heard wrong.

This means—you want to come back too?

Voldemort nodded slowly.

Harry asked again in his mind - questions included why didn't he kill me?

"……include."

Harry couldn't ignore the joy welling up in his heart, he almost smiled, and asked in his heart—then can you... let Aberforth go?

"Don't push yourself," said Voldemort dryly. "And, say it, I don't want to waste my energy reading your messed-up brain."

Harry stared in disbelief, he was the one whose privacy was violated?Why did Voldemort have the nerve to dislike him?

"...Sooner or later, I will learn to use Remembrance." Harry gritted his teeth.

Voldemort wanted to suggest that he should learn Occlumency first, but it was getting late, "I will let Draco contact you, and he will tell you how to cooperate."

Harry was about to refuse when Voldemort spoke up warningly.

"I have to remind you that Dumbledore is not as innocent as you imagined. Why do you think he concealed the second half of the prophecy? Why did he show you the memory of the Gaunt House? Think about it, he fought so much with me Years is not about luck."

After speaking, he disappeared into a black smoke.

Harry reached out and caught only a cloud of air, and swallowed everything he wanted to say, and turned to think about his last words.

Harry always felt that was a slander - Voldemort had every motive to smear Dumbledore, didn't he? —but there was a little corner of his mind that desperately wanted to believe, utterly ignoring the proclamations of reason that occupied the main road.

In the end he decided that he was making a mockery of himself by talking about luck.

Depressed, he fell into the bed, and Harry rested his exhausted brain for a while, got up again, and walked out of the bedroom.

The mess in the living room came into view.The places burned by the flame spell were scorched black, and the furniture and walls were destroyed by his division spell.

This seemed to be the second time he had ruined Tom... Voldemort's living room.

Harry crossed the broken floor and sat on the relatively well-preserved white square sofa, when he suddenly noticed something unusual.

He reached out and felt around the sofa, and finally took out his wand and cast a probing spell.A faint glow lit up.

There is a layer of protective magic on the sofa.There is no doubt that Voldemort has already done it.

Harry stared vaguely at the glow, which seemed very stable and well protected its contents.

More details emerged.

--Where?

--Home.

Neither of them spoke.

——Is this explanation enough?

——I prefer to use your empathy in other places.

—— How about finishing the accusation in your heart once?

—You can read my thoughts.

——I don't have that plan right now.

—I'll give you a chance: a fair duel.

—You didn't win.

——I like the magic you prepared for me.

—Aberforth is still alive.

— lie down and sleep.I have a way.

—I hate that name.

—…Tom, for now.

——I saw your dream.

…………

……

There are many, many more.Countless dialogues and actions, even things that were deliberately left unsaid.

Little by little, they gave Harry hopeless hope.

The holly wand in his hand seemed to still have someone else's warmth.Was it the same with the yew wand?

Harry slowly clenched his wand, and a lonely gleam slowly appeared in his eyes.

Even if it's just luck...he is also the savior chosen by fate, right?

The phone vibrated in his pocket, and Harry picked it up.

"Hey."

"...Po...Potter...it's me, Malfoy...I heard you're in trouble...I, I'd love to...help..."

Malfoy said tremblingly, as if someone had brought a knife to his neck and forced him.

A slight smile played on Harry's lips, thinking that the real situation could be worse than that.

He was surprisingly calm.

"Thank you very much, Draco," he said.