[HP] Crack

"Let me see... what is this?" Voldemort's voice suddenly changed, and Harry immediately became alert, and subconsciously covered his eyes, thinking that it was useless.He didn't know what he saw again, but had a hunch it wouldn't be a good thing.

"Enough, I guess you must be constantly rummaging through the minds of your servants."

"Sometimes you have to find something of value in the trash," he said. "Of course, I noticed that you have more trash in your head than anyone else."

Harry felt there was nothing worse than being angry and not being able to vent.

"Great, my definition of trash is the opposite of yours." He gritted his teeth.

"Your standards don't matter to me," the man said softly, "but since I have a lot of time... I don't mind getting to know the childish thoughts of the legendary boy who lived."

"I do not want to say."

"I see, but it's not up to you."

Harry shrank his neck, he felt as if a hand was stroking the back of his head, but when he looked back, there was nothing.This feeling is very comfortable, like letting yourself float in the water, and don't care about anything... In a trance, he realized that this is wrong, very wrong...

A cold touch made his back stiff, and Harry woke up suddenly, and found himself lying on the ground, completely powerless.

"Damn it," he propped himself up, pressed his forehead, and cursed softly, "what did you do to me?"

"Turned through the dump."

"It's hard for you. What did you find?"

"A bit of fun. You value your friends, your loved ones, and—"

"Things you don't have, obviously." Harry cut him off before he could slander. "It must be painful for you to look at my memory, isn't it?"

"—and, that little redheaded girl you're always thinking about in your walnut-sized mind."

Harry opened his mouth, his tongue seemed to be tied, and he could only choke out, "What?"

Before he could laugh at him, he immediately said, "This has nothing to do with you."

"Of course," he said impatiently, "I mean, she's your friend."

"—not just friends." Harry swallowed, his chest rumbling.He knew there was nothing to hide, but he just felt a little weird for some reason.

"It's really different from others."

That weird feeling got stronger.

"Wait a minute, wouldn't you—no, how could you not know—?"

"Speak clearly, Potter."

Harry's Adam's apple twitched, and he couldn't believe it.Perhaps Voldemort had heard of such things, a boy's attachment to a girl, or vice versa, but he didn't know what it felt like, he didn't know anything about it.

Harry was not too surprised. Voldemort sneered at friendship and family affection, let alone understand love.The prophecy said that he had power that the Dark Lord didn't have - Dumbledore said it was love, and now he understood why, because Voldemort didn't understand at all.

"prophecy?"

Harry reacted and rolled his eyes: "You look like a voyeur."

"That's not the point, that prophecy—"

"That prophecy means that if you don't understand the relationship between me and Ginny, you won't be able to defeat me." Harry made up his mouth, but he felt that it was not far off.

"lie."

"You know if I'm lying," Harry shrugged, "Dumbledore said you're ridiculously ignorant in some ways."

His temples were throbbing and his headache was throbbing.Voldemort was clearly angry, which made his Occlumency less rigorous.But he didn't lose his temper right away, and for some reason Harry even sensed a tiny bit of... fear?But why?

"You mean, there's a power between you and that girl that I don't understand?" he whispered slowly, with obvious disbelief.

"It's not just me and Ginny. It's also the dedication my parents gave to save me, and I know you'll just take my survival as luck, or that some ancient magic you don't understand is at work. Still With Dumbledore's help to us, and my other friends, elders, and teachers, do you think that I am only alive today because of me—by luck and a little magic skill?" Harry said in one breath, and he I could feel that Voldemort wanted to interrupt him many times in the middle, but he ignored it.

"Luck, of course, Potter!" There was a storm in his voice, but Harry wasn't afraid at all.

"You can't attribute every victory of your enemy to luck, unless you don't want to face the truth," Harry said, "or rather, you are afraid that I know a power that you don't."

Voldemort was silent for a while, then said coldly: "So you think you - a wizard who has just grown up - can defeat the greatest dark wizard who ever lived? With the kind of power you said?"

"I don't know, but you undoubtedly believe so."

"Nonsense, Potter."

"You took that prophecy seriously, didn't you?"

"That's a pointless question." He sneered.

"Of course it makes sense—it's why you treat me special! Otherwise, why would you kill a baby you don't know?" Harry felt himself almost roaring, his brain rumbling, "I I owe my life to you, Voldemort, for making me what I am. Don't blame a man for hating you when you punish him for something he hasn't done."

At this moment, his brain was like a pot of boiling hot soup, unable to think about anything, but the man seemed not to be affected by his emotions at all, watching all this calmly.

"I see that you are full of anger and resentment, Potter...you want me to understand, don't you?" The end of the rhetorical question rose slightly, like a big cold hand gently stroking his nerve endings.Harry felt discouraged again, yeah, what is he doing?It would be a joke for Voldemort to understand his difficulties, he might as well ask Kreacher to praise Sirius.

"No, I should go to bed," he said. "Good night."

Every night before he went to sleep, he would make a wish, hoping that they would find clues about Horcruxes or swords soon, or that Ron would suddenly appear, or, he thought desperately, that his mortal enemy would roll out of his mind Get out, he's had enough.

He communicated more with Voldemort than Hermione these days.It was hard for him to imagine that he would chat with him so calmly before—after finding out that anger has no use other than embarrassing himself, it became necessary to skillfully avoid those unsolvable topics.He told him over and over again about Ron, about the Weasleys, about Hermione, about the two boys he hated the most - Dudley Dursley and Draco Malfoy, and he knew he'd heard Annoyed, it's better this way, and he doesn't mind annoying him even more.

"Mrs. Weasley was very kind to us. She prepared presents for Hermione and me at Christmas," he said. "The Dursleys only sent me toothpicks and tissues."

"A dragon sweater?" Voldemort said abruptly.

"...I don't remember telling you that."

"I have a little impression."

Harry was taken aback, adjusted his sitting posture, and put his hands on his knees: "You remember?"

"No, just a vague induction."

He was silent for a while, then asked, "How does it feel to be in my body?"

"What do you want to say?"

"You stayed here for so long, didn't you—um—wake up once? For example, when he was possessed—didn't you? Or, didn't you want to escape?" Harry hesitated, thinking about this question For a long time, Voldemort also knew what he was struggling with but he never answered it once.

"Not awake. Otherwise you would be dead, Potter," said Voldemort sharply.

"But now that you're awake, how do you feel?" Harry pressed.

"I think you are very annoying." He said coldly, "No matter what you want to ask... the soul piece cannot be separated from the Horcrux itself, I thought you knew it very well."

"The last soul piece I saw, he lived in a diary. I think your conditions are probably better than his."

"Funny isn't it?" he whispered, and Harry couldn't tell if he was angry. "If you want to hear, Potter, it's nice to be in your body...you're alive. See what that means." ?"

Harry was stunned for a moment, his face became hot for some reason, and he muttered "I don't want to understand", and stopped harassing him.