[HP] Crack

He did not forget, not for a moment.He just woke up from the dream, escaped from the thousands of snares, and stripped off his fragile disguise.What was he thinking about?What did he think he could do... One day, one day, really only one day.

Harry had never felt he was running so fast, and he staggered into the living room, running towards the door in the dark, following his memory.He was slightly surprised that the expected pursuit did not appear, and without thinking too much, he raised his wand and fired an Ahola hole opening spell.A red light flashed, and the door swung open.The silvery white moonlight instantly covered the ground, and the cold winter wind filled the hall like a swollen monster, blowing away his sideburns and robe.

Harry took one last look over his shoulder, his eyes watering from the cold wind and night.Then he ran into the white garden path without hesitation.

He has a kind of magic called □□□, he always thinks that it is not special, nor is it great, everyone has it, and anyone can fight for it.Now he still thinks it is very ordinary, he can give it to his relatives and friends, and he can also give it to his enemy, the person he should hate the most, the voice that rang frequently in countless nightmares, he stood on the icy lake , thousands of pale, bloodless hands surged up from the bottom of the boat and pulled him down...Kill him, Harry, let this end...No, I can't...Think about it, Harry, if You don't know the prophecy, you don't know you're going to face him eventually, would you want to kill him?

He ran barefoot in the snow, his feet were so red with cold that he almost lost consciousness, and his fingers were filled with dirty snow.He squinted, trying to find a way to escape in the flying snowflakes, and the icy wind penetrated his body from every skin and soaked his bones.He barely breathed, let out a low growl, coughed violently, stepped on a sharp stone, and fell to the ground in pain.

He is deluded by love and thinks he can make everything better.He shared his kiss with that man, shared his fiery and pure soul, he was wrong, there was only a thin piece of his soul left, nothing could fit in it.

When Harry closed his eyes, the man in the dungeon yelled madly. The world was still buried in shadows. What reason did he have to be addicted to love?He forced himself to stand up from the ground, wiped off the blood on his knees with snow, and was about to continue running outside when a cold breath came from behind and locked his limbs.

Harry froze, didn't look back, and tried to lift his legs forward, but his struggle only made the cold seep deeper, as if in his veins.This power is so familiar, he met the dementor on that street and fell into the darkness without a trace. At that time, there was such a power awakening in his soul... deeper than the night, deeper than a dream Even colder, he tried to cross the white snow in front of him, but the black wind dragged him back.The owner of the strong wind roared behind him, hoarse, as if he was asking: "Fate! Fate!" or "Harry! Harry!"

They called his name as if it were a special symbol, but he knew there was a profound difference.

Harry lay prostrate on the ground, his face buried in the cold snow, his eyes shut from the cold.That force was getting more and more out of control, wrapping around his waist and pulling desperately, he could feel the anger, anxiety, rage, and even pain and fear that filled that person, like a bowl of cloudy potion.He didn't know why, but there was no doubt that Voldemort's intense mood swings were radiating through him, causing him to break down, cry, roll on the ground, in pain that spread throughout his body.

He was dragged and pulled back, snow, weeds and stones scratched his body, hot blood oozed out, and immediately froze and cracked into scabs.The wound cracked and healed, and it grew into layers of blood shells. These were not important, he heard his roar, and the devil named Fear under the angry mask sucked nutrients and grew up.

Harry realizes that something unexpected has happened, that things are out of control, and that the very person he was determined to escape is suffering.Screaming, begging, his burning black magic instinctively held him to death - he needed him.

He has to go back.

Harry took a deep breath and wiped the dirt from the corners of his eyes with his bloodstained hands.The sound of the wind became quieter, he turned around, looked seriously at the black storm that was chasing after him, and let him wrap him up.Unexpectedly, he felt no pain, although it was cold, but very gentle.

He had to go back...or he'd regret it.

"Don't worry, don't worry..." he whispered, "I'll be back, I'll be right back."

He staggered towards the gate of the castle, his limbs were already numb, and he staggered forward only with consciousness.He wrapped around him, his breath echoed in his ears, blocking all the wind and snow; and like an insecure baby, clinging to him, absorbing the heat from his body, demanding everything from him...

"I'm back, I'm back," he kept muttering, he didn't know who he was comforting, his eyes were so swollen that he couldn't see the way ahead, his palms were covered with blood scabs and mud, "don't be afraid, Tom... don't be afraid ..."

He pushed open the door, and walked step by step towards the deepest wailing and horror. The dirty robe tripped him, and he stood up with the sofa and continued to move forward.The black storm became thicker and thicker, covering him tightly, leaving only a pair of eyes.The coldness and darkness in the depths of the man's soul surged up like a rising tide and strangled him by the throat.Harry kicked open the dungeon door, and black shadows crawled across the dark and cramped space.The man was sitting on the ground with his back to him, and there seemed to be nothing unusual.

Harry paused for a moment, then sat down beside him.The latter's shoulders moved, hesitated, and slowly turned around.The Dark Portal opened to him.

Harry had long been used to Voldemort's flat, snakelike face after his resurrection, but now it was even more terrifying than before.His eyes were blood red, like two big light bulbs, his cheeks were as pale as paper, covered with black marks, as if they had been torn apart.The facial features seemed to have been burned and blurred.

Harry froze for a few seconds, suppressing the panic in his heart.For no reason, he recalled the memories he had seen in Dumbledore's office. After many years of graduation, Voldemort returned to Hogwarts to seek a teaching position. At that time, his appearance also underwent a similar change... melting, burning Like... He watched him, he should have chosen to escape, he should have left here again, and forgotten everything he had seen.

Harry blinked, making a decision.He gently held his face and kissed those two thin lips.

He himself thrust himself into the vortex.

There was a moment of silence all around.In the next second, black shadows in the entire room came from all directions, squeezing into his body like sharp glass shards.Harry gasped, and subconsciously hugged the person in front of him tightly, gritting his teeth and persevering.It was as if the whole body had been pierced by ice, and the pain penetrated into the bone marrow.

The man moved, and his blood-red eyes finally rolled around.He slowly reached out and grabbed him, and suddenly pressed him hard on the ground, leaning on top of him and looking at him coldly.

Harry gasped, he had no time to care what he was doing.The things that had penetrated him gave him something even more wondrous, he felt his soul connected to Voldemort in an eerie way, and he was shocked at how broken his soul was.

When he woke up in his own head, Harry had seen that piece of soul, thin as it was, at least whole and functioning.But now it has been split into two pieces, shaking in the dark, looking extremely unstable, and it seems that it will continue to split.

He reached out to touch one of the souls, and it immediately screamed in pain like it was on fire, and struggled, Harry held it tightly, trying to comfort: "Don't be afraid, Tom, don't resist me...it's me ,it's me……"

He controlled it with one hand, and gently grasped another piece of soul with the other.They were still screaming, and he tried to glue them together, but gluing souls was not as easy as gluing two sheets of paper, nor was it like sewing clothes, which could be done with a needle and thread.

The two souls twisted and shouted louder and louder. Harry's eardrums were throbbing, his brain was dizzy, and he could hardly think.He needs an adhesive, he thought desperately, a special adhesive, but this is the realm of black magic, how would he know?

Voldemort grabbed the boy in front of him tightly, and the pain appeared on the latter's face, but it was not as much as what he was experiencing... The soul was split, but it did not dissipate. He thought he was used to this kind of torture.But what is he doing?He actually dared to manipulate his soul, he actually...

The boy struggled unconsciously and frowned.He felt that he was looking for a way, and his gentle comfort calmed his irritability with indescribable magic.He heard his complaints, black magic... This is his area of ​​expertise, he knows how to bond two souls, but there are no conditions for implementation here.

The sharp pain tore through his chest again, and he roared, reaching out and ripping Harry's robe forcefully.

Don't be afraid, Tom, don't be afraid...

It's ridiculous, how could he be afraid...

Don't be afraid... I'm back...

He doesn't need, doesn't need to—

Don't resist me...it's me, it's me...

He looked at the muddy boy in the dust.This is the purest soul he has ever seen.

They rolled on the ground, dirty and crazy, love and pain were the shackles that bound them tightly.He bites his lips, his skin, he knows, he knows... He fumbles wildly in him, trying to find the part that fits him, he's his, he belongs to him, he's back - Then don't even think about leaving.

Two divided souls, the best glue is another soul.He must also know that when he chose to embrace him, his soul fell into hell.But if he turned and ran away at that time, he would kill him with all his strength.

Waves of pain distorted his face, which was more difficult than splitting his soul for the first time... He needed an outlet, a soothing place that could bear his torment, and there was a best choice in front of him.If it has to happen, let it happen.

Harry felt the pain for a split second, and at that moment he didn't even understand what was happening or where the pain was coming from.The hands around him woke him momentarily, and the man oppressed him, his pain and strength like a huge gray castle, the shadow of which was engraved on the soul.He gasped, gradually understanding what he was going to do.

He has sold his soul to the devil, he thought absently, of course, the devil's soul also belongs to him... He crawled in the snow all night with blood, and they will never be separated again.