Can HP Diary Help Me Pass NEWTs?

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This chapter conflicts with the ending, I have been thinking for a long time how to get it right, so I will update it today, and I apologize to everyone!

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And, today is my favorite again, crumb x crumb -19-

It's six o'clock in the evening, two and a half hours before my roommates return to the dorm.

I have two and a half hours to get the answer I want.

I clasped my hands and watched Riddle silently across the table.

He was sitting on the chair opposite me, with dark eyes, waiting for me to speak.

"You said before that our backgrounds are very similar, we are both mixed blood, we both grew up in the Muggle world—" I stared at him, "What does that mean?"

Riddle's expression seemed to twitch.

"I mean," he repeated slowly and softly, staring at me as if weighing something.But he quickly made a decision, "As you have heard, my cowardly and stupid mother fell madly in love with a Muggle, bore me with him, and was soon abandoned, and the reason It's because she's a witch."

He sneered, "My father left my mother and went back to his Muggle parents' house before I was born. My mother died giving birth to me and left me in a Muggle orphanage .But I swore I'd find him, I'd get my revenge on him, on that fool named Tom Riddle."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

Riddle immediately watched me closely with sharp and cold eyes, not letting go of every subtle expression of mine.

"I don't think you're sympathizing with me, are you?" he said slowly, the corners of his eyes gradually turning a violent scarlet, like a snake hunting, "Pauline, tell me, what are you thinking? "

Actually I didn't think about anything.

I'm just amazed once again.

But I understand what Riddle is thinking.

He regards this period of the past as a deep shame, like carrion buried deep in his heart. It seems that he has conquered it long ago, but in fact he is deeply affected all the time.If anyone touched it, he would be so sensitive that he would feel a great shame.

A person like Riddle can use all means to eradicate anyone or anything that makes him feel ashamed.

Sympathy may be a kind of kindness to others, but to Riddle, it is the superiority of the strong over the weak, which is undoubtedly the deepest shame.

Especially, this person must not be me.

I'm afraid he'd rather I pull out my wand and give him a Killing Curse now than see me sympathize with him.

And I really didn't mean to sympathize with him.

Maybe I'm a natural jerk who can't understand the pain of people whose family of origin is unfortunate, so I never feel that there is anything worthy of sympathy.

I can understand those who are open-minded and relieved, and use their own abilities to get out of the predicament of their original family, and I can also understand those who are deeply trapped in it and have been bound for a lifetime.

But I never sympathized with anyone.

I don't feel that I have this obligation, or rather, this right.

"So, what's your mother's last name?" I asked under his icy gaze. "Sounds like a great pure-blood family?"

Riddle looked like he froze for a moment.

He looked at me expressionlessly, looking back and forth on my face, as if trying to find evidence that I was faking it.

But he got nothing.

I rolled my eyes at him impatiently.

"When do you want to see?" I asked coldly, "I look forward to opening my arms to you now, displaying overflowing love and great maternal love, kissing your cheek instead of your mother, coaxing you to sleep, and finally Say something like 'You must have had a hard time and pain these years, I really love you, you are so pitiful'?"

I couldn't help but sneered, and looked straight into Riddle's eyes without hesitation, "I'm sorry, I can only see that you are strong enough now, obviously you don't need my mother's love and distress."

To be honest, although I know what he is thinking, I can guess his motives, and even understand his extreme sensitivity and shame, but it doesn't seem to mean that I have to tolerate his annoying behavior. character?

Neither is his mother!

As I said earlier, I would never change myself for another person in any relationship, no matter who that person is.

Riddle is certainly no exception.

"Oh——" However, to my surprise, he didn't get angry at my undisguised malicious sarcasm, not even the slightest bit of anger.

On the contrary, Riddle showed a strange expression. The scarlet at the end of his eyes had dissipated at some point, and his pupils became dark again. He looked at me with a strange look, and said slowly, "Of course, If that's what you're wondering - my mother came from a pureblood Gaunt."

"Gaunt." I repeated softly, thoughtfully, "this surname is mentioned in the "Pure-Blood List", one of the 28 pure-blood families, who once intermarried with the descendants of Slytherin—no wonder you claim to be A descendant of Salazar-Slytherin."

"I didn't expect you to have read "Pure-Blood List." Riddle laughed, and he seemed to be in a good mood—I really can't understand what is going on in this person's mind this time—he Leaning happily on the high-backed chair, he looked at me with a smile, "I thought you were disgusted with the pure-blood theory."

what the hell?

What good thing did he think of?

So proud?

It's like a cat stealing fish - it's unreasonable!

I glanced at him lightly, and said coldly, "I don't reject any knowledge."

Although the pure-blood family is meaningless knowledge to me, it is at least very useful when dealing with Slytherin students.

"Of course, of course," it's hell—Riddle's mood is really inexplicably good, he even looked at me tolerantly, with the kind of tender tolerance that I used to know he was hypocritical but still very useful Looking at me, and damn it this time, it seemed to be sincere, "Paulyn, this is the most ruthless thing about you, but it's also one of the most fascinating things about you..."

...?

——Is he supposed to be suffering from some serious mental illness? ?

Hell, is this really Tom Riddle?

It won't be dropped by someone when I don't know, right?

Can a Horcrux take Polyjuice Potion? ?

I glared at him with extremely weird eyes, but it seemed to make him happier.

"So," he asked me politely, "perhaps you want to know more about the Gaunt family?"

"Oh," I said dryly, continuing to look at him with weird and suspicious eyes, as if the person sitting across the desk from me was not Riddle, but a creature that had been forcibly transformed into a human by a Transfiguration spell. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

... No matter what serious illness Riddle has, at least knowledge is innocent!

"The Gunter family advocates pure blood, and they don't even intermarry with other pure-blood families, so as to preserve the noble blood of Salazar-Slytherin to the greatest extent. Due to the decrease in population and not intermarriage with outsiders, the Gunter family The number of people gradually dwindled, and in my mother's generation, there were only two people left, she and her brother - according to tradition, they would become husband and wife."

I looked uncomfortable.

"It seems that you can't accept this kind of tradition." Riddle looked at me funny.

"Well, I think you seem to accept this well," I said coldly, "It seems that you very much hoped that your mother would give you a twin sister or a younger sister to preserve your Slytherin heritage." Noble blood."

"I wouldn't say that." He drew out his tone and smiled subtly. "Pauline, why talk about something that never existed?"

I gave him a cold look, indifferent to what he meant.

"So," I said dryly, "is that why you dropped your name and called yourself Voldemort?"

Riddle's happy smile suddenly disappeared.

He looked at me coldly, seemed to be weighing my attitude, and couldn't make up his mind right away.

He sat there like a cold statue ready to wake up at any moment, ready to raise his arms at anyone who might threaten him.

Cold and terrifying eyes swept across my body.

But he got nothing.

I slightly hooked the corners of my lips, and my mood suddenly became better.

Under Riddle's heavy gaze, I got up from the seat, walked around the desk, and slowly walked in front of him, and then under his slightly surprised gaze, I sat directly on the desk with both hands on the desk, condescending looking at him.

I was very close to him, and I couldn't allow my legs to hang down naturally on the table, so I kicked off the slippers very simply, stepped on his thigh with bare feet, and looked at him with self-appreciative eyes. The nail polish I just put on.

Riddle looked extremely strange.

Both guarded and eccentric.

"So," he was silent for a long time, watched me finish all this, and then he protracted his tone, and said strangely, "you know?"

I looked at him with a half-smile, and suddenly stretched out my hand to grab his tie hidden under the wizard's robe, gently pulling on the tie, and brought him closer to me.

He could only follow the tie and be led by me, leaning his body towards me, looking up at me, who was close at hand and looking down at him with his head down, in a strange and narrow posture.

Riddle's expression became even weirder.

"If you're talking about your title of the strongest dark wizard, the person whose name cannot be mentioned, or your theory of pure blood supremacy, I think I know it well." I lowered my head and looked at him casually , "Or maybe you were defeated by a boy who survived a catastrophe, I know a thing or two."

When talking about the first half, the corners of his lips couldn't help showing a smug smile, but when I said the second half, the smile suddenly disappeared.

"The boy who survived the catastrophe and was chosen by fate?" Riddle seemed to be irritated, "Ha, look, what a great prophecy, the mighty Dark Lord was also defeated by a one-year-old baby! Amazing fate !"

He stared at me with terrifying eyes, "Don't tell me, Pauline, do you also believe this ridiculous lie? Do you really believe that this is a prophecy, an arrangement of fate?"

After figuring out Riddle's identity, I did explain to him the past of the disastrous Dark Lord calmly.

He never believed it, and regarded the prophecy about the Boy Who Lived as absurd, and he didn't believe in any "magic of love". He would rather believe that it was the secret magic of Dumbledore or the Potter family.He rejected the prophecy, deciding it was a conspiracy.

"Prophecy," he sneered, "is a game of liars and fools, who weave lies and falsehoods, to try to rule the world in the place of the truly great."

He is so sure that anyone can believe it.

But I am neither.

"Come to my side, Pauline, we are the same kind, and I need your help." Riddle opened his arms to me, as if looking down on his subjects, "No matter how many times you are defeated, this The world is destined to be owned by people like us. Fools have occupied the magpie's nest for too many years. What a stupid order they have established. They are afraid of knowledge and power. They regard ignorance as justice and impulsiveness as honor, and trample them with heavy constraints. Born extraordinary, so as not to be destroyed by the latter."

"How ridiculous," he said softly.

I looked at him blankly, chewing on every word he said, "Born, destined, so you think so."

He looked back at me incredulously.

"Tom, I wonder," I said softly, "why, why do you believe in fate so much?"

Riddle looked at me with terrifying eyes.

"Fate?" He chewed the word, low, like the hiss of a poisonous snake, "I never believe in fate, ridiculous prophecies... nothing can stop me from going to eternal strength."

"No, you believe it." I was surprised that I could say what I kept in my heart so bluntly.

I never said it before.

There were words that could tease him and even irritate him, but none quite like this one.

"You just don't want to admit that maybe fate didn't choose you, you are just a mortal in front of fate."

Riddle's face contorted with rage.

His eyes turned completely scarlet, as if covered with dripping blood, evil and cruel.

He growled, glared at me viciously, and taunted me with all his might.

But I didn't listen to his defense.

"You envy him—Harry Potter, the boy you think fate chose." I murmured, "You may not even believe that prophecy, but just think that it might be true and that fate might rather favor it." Even a baby in swaddling clothes is not willing to choose such a powerful you...In the vast sea of ​​people, you are not special——As long as you think of this possibility, you will hate it to the bone."

So Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow in person, for a baby, just to deny that possibility.

"You say I'm your kind," I ignored his fury and snarl, "but I never believed in fate, neither in doomed failure nor in doomed success. I'm no different from anyone else, I'm not destined to be extraordinary, and in fact, I don't think I'm extraordinary at all."

Maybe I'm vain, haughty, and pretentious, but I never feel like I'm superior.

Ability and personality are two different things.

Riddle looked at me blankly.

"So, your answer is 'no'?" He finally calmed down, squeezed out a twisted smile, stared at me, every word seemed to roll off the tip of a knife.

I paused and gazed at him delicately.

"Tom, you always think too much," I lowered my eyelids, stared down at the tie in my hand, held it vainly, and slowly brushed the smooth and delicate satin with my thumb, and said coldly and delicately, "When you In your heart, anyone who is not obedient to you is an unbearable... offense to you."

He and I stare at my hand stroking my tie.

I can almost feel his gaze.

His gaze, like hot lava, sprinkled on my fingertips, the back of my hand... and flowed through every inch of my skin, submerging me until the blazing sparks covered all the gaps between my body and soul.

Let him burn.

"But you know, every time you look at me with this expression, what am I thinking?" My eyes moved up slowly, falling between his cold and furious eyebrows, and I asked softly.

Riddle stared at me intently.

"I'm thinking..." I gripped his tie tightly and leaned over slightly, our faces were so close, I could even feel his cold breath.

I stared straight into his eyes, so focused that no other person or thing in the world could attract my attention at this moment—I saw Riddle's Adam's apple rolling slowly subconsciously.

I whispered, "I just want to... kiss you."

As if it was unbearable even for a little bit, Riddle suddenly got up from the chair, lowered his head, stretched out his hand to grab me, stared at me fiercely, almost full of hatred, pinched my chin forcefully, and roughly Pasted my lips.

A mixture of rage, ferocity, plunder, madness, destruction and deep-rooted obsession, like a long and devastating volcanic eruption, swallowing everything, covering everything, drowning him, and me.

I stared into his eyes, dazzled with mad rage.

"Horcrux." I murmured in my heart, "Where is the Horcrux?"

Clouds of gray shadows flashed through my mind—Great Hangleton, the moss-covered dilapidated house, the dead snake in front of the door, Gaunt's old house, the golden ring inlaid with huge, broken black stones ...In an instant, it turned into dreamlike fragments of emptiness and trance.

But I've caught what I want.

In his cold and tough embrace, I felt that I became very light, very light, like a lingering light smoke, rising and rising, following the pull of the soul, to the other end of desire.

I closed my eyes, stretched out my hand, and hugged him obediently, letting the raging fire engulf me and burn with him.

Burn, and then fall into the abyss together with him in the obsession, rebellion and madness that destroy everything.