[HP] I won't do this Dark Lord

"Although you don't have a girlfriend at all, it sounds reasonable."

Riddle ignored those winks, he stopped looking at the sky, turned his face to look in the direction of the castle library, waited for a while, and saw the expected paper crane staggering against the wind but firmly towards him fly.

Stretching out his hand to pinch the paper crane's wings, Riddle didn't open it immediately, the paper crane docilely lay in his palm, and bumped his head against his fingertips as if urging.

He remembered every word written in the paper crane, and it was meaningless to read it again.

He thought so, but still unfolded the paper crane meticulously.

"Where are the stars in Musca now?"

The slender and beautiful Italian body is very familiar to Riedel, or rather, impressed.

They were on the only Christmas present Fiona gave him, and on the farewell poems he threw away both times.

——You are my last battle for survival.

—What does my name mean to you?Like the pattern carved on the tombstone in a language that no one can understand.

When writing these words, Fiona should have known that their ending would be as obliterated as the memories taken away by her, but she still wrote them down.

Is this the last farewell she lingers on?Or an anonymous confession?

neither.

Riddle felt that it was more like the Dark Mark he left after the massacre—it was both a proud signature of the work and an arrogant provocation to the Aurors.

"Mr. Riddle, I suggest you go to St. Mungo's to take a look when you have time. Your persecution paranoia is getting worse." The system said intimately.

Riddle ignored it, put away the paper crane, and flew to the library on a broom.

The system doesn't need him to respond, anyway, he can always hear it talking to itself.

"And you've changed. At the beginning, you obviously said, 'See, she loves me, so I know no one can escape my charm', but now it's 'I won't be fooled, she must not be because she loves me,'" You all want to see me 'joke'? It only takes six retracements to go from ego to low self-esteem."

Riddle was very calm, and still ignored it.

The system continued to poke and prod, "Isn't it just to let you love someone, why such a big reaction? Is loving someone more terrible than death?"

The broom hovered not far from the glass window. Behind the window covered with mist, the thin silhouette was like a medieval painting soaked into the glass. The bright colors faded in the long history, dark and old. But still full of eye-catching artistry.

But it is actually just a simple shadow, and all the symbolic meanings are given by the viewers.

The viewer with an unclear expression stared at it for a long time, and after the silhouette changed from static to vivid because of turning the page, he said lightly: "Since you know my life experience clearly, shouldn't you know, yes To me, love and death are different variations of the same word?"

"You may have misunderstood," the system said, "I'm actually not interested in knowing more about you."

His attention didn't seem to be on the system. Riddle's mood was still very calm. He watched the person in the window fiddle with his hair. in thoughts.

"I was born the product of a wild and hopeless love, and no one knew love better than I did - a witch, in love with a Muggle, died alone in an orphanage. The Savior's mother would have survived , but she used the protective magic of love, and died. Dumbledore, the most powerful white wizard, pursued the idea of ​​love, and he also died. Snape, my right-hand man, he gave up the power at his fingertips status, spying for a woman who didn't love him, and of course, he died—who else? Oh, Bella, she loved me, she loved me madly, she died for me—it made me really I'm a little sorry."

Riddle counted them one by one, his good memory made him not miss anyone, "...There are many people, I have seen many, many, none of them have a good end. So, what is love?"

He snorted, "Love is to announce one's weakness to everyone, and personally deliver the weapon that can stab oneself to the enemy's hands."

"Which one is more terrifying, love or death?" Riddle asked aggressively.

The system gave a "huh", "That's a good question, but your focus seems to be wrong. The people you mentioned didn't die because of love, but because of you—isn't it you, the culprit, who is the most terrifying?"

"..." Riddle choked up.

"And, according to what you said, you have no love, no weakness, so how did you get defeated? The savior who survived under the protection spell? Snape who delivered the Elder Wand to you? Or died Dumbledore to arrange?"

"To shut up."

"No, I haven't finished yet—if you ask me, neither love nor death is scary, but your cowardly appearance of being afraid of both love and death is really ridiculous."

"To shut up!"

Finally, he roared unbearably, and Riddle forcibly interrupted the conversation with the system. He took a deep breath to stabilize his mood messed up by the system, pulled out his smiling face and knocked on the window.

The window was pushed open from the inside, and Riddle smiled and prepared to speak according to the rehearsal in his heart. The moment his eyes met, he caught the fleeting smile of the person opposite him.

It was not a polite social smile, nor did it contain complex meanings. It had no purpose. If I had to describe it, it was like a happy pedestrian seeing a rose sticking out of a chalk wall. An unconscious slack smile.

The pre-set opening was disturbed by this unguarded smile, and Riddle couldn't help recalling Fiona's reaction the last time he was in this scene.

But in the past, even when he was concentrating on observing her, he would always focus more on guessing her psychology and thinking about what kind of response he should give.Instead of putting aside all calculations and precautions like now, when he looks at her, he just looks at her.

It was like a person with blurred vision from birth wearing glasses and seeing a clear world for the first time. Riddle was surprised that every part of Fiona in his eyes seemed to add details that he hadn't noticed before.

Her eyes are not always calm and calm, when the blue eyeballs move, they will flash with vivid broken light.Her smile is not as neat as that of a doll, the corner of her right lip will be raised slightly higher than that of the left, especially in the case of a half-smile, she will only pull the corner of her right lip perfunctorily to show a smile. It's a kind of see-through but not revealing.

There are also the bent index finger and the little finger curled up in the palm of her hand when she brushed her hair aside, the earlobe exposed between her hair, the angle formed by her neck and jaw when she turned her head, all these things suddenly had a unique and subtle meaning, which made Riddle Can't help but watch it again and again.

After staring at each other for too long, Fiona blinked her eyes and said lazily, "What happened to you again?"

"No." Riddle paused, but he didn't want to say what he wanted to say. He temporarily found a question lingering in his heart, "I was wondering—what were you thinking when you wrote the note."

Fiona automatically understood it as the words on the paper crane. She glanced at the starry sky above Riddle's head, and fell back to his face after a while.

"I think that's a good reason," she said calmly, talking about the weather. "You should come to me."

This straight ball stunned Riddle, he didn't think of how to answer the question for a moment, and after a while he said dully: "Oh, so, don't you want to know the positions of the stars in the constellation Musca?"

After finishing speaking, Riddle regretted it. He suspected that the system had the ability to manipulate his thinking, otherwise he couldn't believe how he could say such a stupid thing.

System: "I want to have this ability, now let you stand on the broom and perform a tap dance for the task target."

Her brows raised lightly, and Fiona gave Riddle a serious look. Riddle was shocked by her gaze, and then saw her pursing her lips into a smile.

"I don't care about Musca, I just want to see you." She said briskly.

"..."

Once again, Riddle briefly lost the ability to speak.

Among Riddle's followers, speculators who are afraid of him and impure in mind account for the majority, but there are not few fanatics who worship him. Countless people have prostrated themselves at his feet and kissed him. boots and robes, looking up at him with burning eyes, praising his greatness, pouring out his respect or love to him.

But whether they were so sincere they wanted to cut their hearts out for him to see, or they just sang and sang beautifully, Riddle was not moved.

He ridiculed their ignorance and blind faith, belittled all enthusiasm that seemed fanatical but actually vain, perhaps substituting them into Merope Gunter unconsciously, the more he showed that he loved him, the more he wanted to humiliate the other's self-esteem , in their embarrassment and pain, he happily despised their weakness at their mercy.

Just like at this moment, just sitting on the broom because of a fluffy word, I can't use my acting skills to show affection - she will definitely see it through, and I can't say what is stuck in my throat - Riddle From the bottom of my heart, I hate being controlled by another person, and I am panicked and powerless.

"Ding. The favorability of the target is increased by 1, and the current favorability is 91."

Riddle looked at Fiona, and Fiona also smiled slightly and looked at him with her knees resting on her chin, without asking or urging him to remain silent.

Whether it was before or now, what he hates always seems to be captured by her