The Handsome Dark Lord[Comprehensive]

Hermione and Sirius looked at each other in blank dismay, unable to understand the reason why Harry refused to explain at this point.

"It's not just about me, Hermione," Harry tried to explain. "He's done a lot for me, and I can't break my word."

Sirius stopped talking, and his whole body seemed to have sunk into the water, exuding a depressed breath.

Hermione was much calmer, "You said you don't want to be an Auror, is that also an agreement with Malfoy?"

"No," said Harry softly, after a moment's hesitation, "but it's about him."

Hermione's expression was a bit indescribable, she cast a glance at Sirius, who was in a daze and didn't respond.She had no choice but to say sullenly: "I don't know when you have such a good relationship with him."

Harry said vaguely: "We had a few private conflicts last semester...I didn't expect the relationship to become better in the end."

"Then you no longer accept news from the Order of the Phoenix?" Sirius asked, "Is it also related to that damn Malfoy?"

Harry apologized to Draco in his heart, and nodded slightly to him, "He's been helping me find out about Aberforth..."

This is real.Harry spoke solemnly to them.

"If Professor Dumbledore asks, please tell me that Aberforth is now being interrogated in Voldemort's private dungeon, and his life is not in danger for the time being."

Sirius and Hermione nodded, looking worried.

At this time, Mrs. Weasley came to call the protagonist of the birthday party, and they had to end the conversation.

Mr. Weasley was with Bill around the Firebolt/Arrow, checking it for any jinxes.Lupine also came, and he looked at Harry and Sirius with concern for the first time, and the latter gave him a wink, saying that we would talk about it later.

Hermione also wanted to talk to Ron, but found that he was bragging about the extraordinary Firebolt/Arrow with Fleur, and immediately turned to Ginny.

Harry was pulled by Mrs Weasley to the birthday cake, sixteen candles crowded together, and the candlelight lit up his face.

"Make a wish, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley lovingly.

Everyone gathered around, and Mr. Weasley extinguished the light in the living room.

Harry looked around, the orange candlelight made their smiling faces very warm.

He closed his eyes and saw Voldemort's face in his mind, and for a split second he wished unrealistically that he, too, had been one of them.

Hope for world peace.He blew out the candle.

Some self-deprecatingly thought, at least this wish is quite in line with the name of the savior.

After the banquet, Harry returned to his room with his gift in his arms.The Firebolt/Arrow successfully withstood the test of at least a dozen detection spells, Harry put it in the suitcase, thought about it, and sent a text message to the giver.

[Thank you for your birthday present. ]

It took a while for the opposite party to reply: [It was a gift from Malfoy's family. ]

what? !

Harry stared at the phone screen, in disbelief for a while.

[how about you?You don't give me a present? ]

He didn't realize it was wrong until after sending it out, as if he was asking someone to give him a gift, it was really inappropriate.

... He's actually kind of angry for the hell of it.

Harry wasn't going to retract his words.

[I allow him to send it. ] The other party replied brazenly.

What kind of gangster logic is this?Harry groaned for Draco, and was moved that he was blind in vain.

[Thanks.Thanks.you. ] He replies in all caps.

Voldemort called directly.

Startled, Harry covered the buzzing phone, took out his wand, locked the door, and cast a Silencing Charm.

He picked up the phone in a panic, the other end of the phone seemed to have expected his panic, and there was a burst of deep laughter.

Harry's forehead was stretched out with blue veins, and he wanted to hang him up in dissatisfaction.

"I rarely give presents, Harry," said Voldemort, his voice low and soft, as if in a good mood, "but this time I did."

Harry calmed down, and asked curiously, "What is it?"

"You'll know." He whispered, "Happy birthday."

By the time the call was over, Harry's response had softened, revealing a hint of unnoticeable reluctance.

Voldemort closed the phone, the temperature in his eyes hadn't dissipated, and as far as he could see, it was the castle of Hogwarts.

Harry's text came just in time.

Just now, he completed a long-planned event.

Enter Hogwarts through the secret passage and retrieve the crown.

Then visit Dumbledore openly.

Many of the portraits and ghosts in the castle remember his student days. Wherever he passed, it was like an invisible hurricane blowing up, cleaning all the murals and ghosts on the wall.

They huddled and huddled together, ran through the wall in panic, stepped over the picture frame, and rushed to the principal's office to warn.

it's useless.He had been to the principal's office countless times and knew every route from there.

Dumbledore could only escape from the fireplace.

In that case, both Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix will be ruined.

He looked forward, not without malice.

The two stone beasts in front of the principal's office tried to ask for the password as usual, and they didn't remember the lesson from last time at all. He had to teach them what respect is.

The yew wand shattered one of the stone beasts.

The other shrank tremblingly into a corner.

He stepped up the steps with satisfaction, and was meeting Dumbledore who was sinking at the top of the stairs.

"Long time no see, Tom."

The hypocrite old man, as always, liked to address him by his abandoned Christian name, as if it would demonstrate his long-lost authority.

"It's so fresh, Dumbledore," he walked up the stairs unhurriedly, "I thought you'd have enough time to escape this time."

Dumbledore ignored his provocation, his wrinkled face looked calm and dignified.

"What do you want to do when you come alone?"

"Everyone is a burden, it's better to be simple."

Voldemort came face to face with Dumbledore as he climbed the last step.

The old man could clearly see the impressively handsome features, very different from Harry's description in his fourth year.

Dumbledore asked softly: "...What made you change like this?"

Voldemort smiled hypocritically: "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Dumbledore looked at him cautiously, turned around slowly, and pushed open the office door.

"Please."

The headmaster's office was crowded with nervous portraits, and Fox shifted restlessly on his perch on the spindly-legged desks of silverware belching smoke.

When Voldemort walked in, the portraits on the wall gasped one after another, as if a meteor had been smashed into the office.

Dumbledore walked to the table and cabinet calmly: "Would you like something to drink?"

A murmur erupts from the portraits as he turns his back on his nemesis, defenseless.

Voldemort didn't take the opportunity to kill as they thought, his dangerous eyes rested on the scorched black hand, and the corner of his mouth slanted ironically: "Leave it to yourself."

Dumbledore made himself a cup of honey black tea, and sat calmly opposite him, as if the two were old friends who hadn't seen each other for many years, rather than deadly enemies.

"I remember your last visit, Tom." Dumbledore said as if nostalgic. "Unfortunately, I am not fit to drink wine now. How time flies."

Voldemort took no interest in false nostalgia to accompany him, his eyes fixed on the charred hand that couldn't stir the teacup, and a bloody cruel smile slowly emerged.

"You are useless, Dumbledore."

The office suddenly became very quiet, and all the portraits were frightened by this sentence.

Dumbledore still stirred the teacup steadily, and added another lump of sugar to it.

"One hand for a piece of soul," he said kindly, "couldn't be more cost-effective."

Voldemort's red eyes were closer to the blood, "White the peace in front of me? Do you think it makes sense, Dumbledore?" He smiled softly, "No one knows my curse better than me. You are still alive Is it next year's day?"

Dumbledore also smiled slightly: "Death is not something to be afraid of, Tom, it is the end of this great adventure in life, and the beginning of another great adventure. I know, you may never understand its charm."

"Because it has only the charm of your imagination," said Voldemort. "You can brag about it, Dumbledore, because you are the one who has no choice but to meet it sadly."

"Men are mortal, Tom," said Dumbledore, putting down the teaspoon and watching him, "even you."

Voldemort shook his head slightly: "Still pretending, Dumbledore, you always do. Even when the facts are in front of you, you have to stick to your old ways. Talking to you always turns me off."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and said modestly: "Then, I reasonably speculate that you didn't come today to lose your appetite."

Voldemort's gaze fell on the yew wand in his hand, and he stroked it gently without speaking.

Dumbledore was not in a hurry, he picked up the black tea and drank it slowly.Instead, the portraits began to whisper nervously again.

"Next semester, I'm going to teach at Hogwarts."

Voldemort suddenly said something surprising.

Dumbledore watched him over the teacup, which he put down slowly.

"I gotta say, you really got me wondering, Tom. What made the Hogwarts teaching job so attractive to you that to this day, having been rejected twice, when you actually didn't need it at all, A third application? And — and I think we all agree on this — my answer is still impossible.”

"What gave you the illusion that this was an application, Dumbledore?"

Voldemort looked at his expression and corrected gently: "This is not an application, but a notice."