[HP] Crack

Harry barely communicated with Voldemort for the next few days.They moved their positions, and Hermione sneaked into a Muggle library to check, and learned from the information that the group of orphanages had been demolished many years ago, and an office building had occupied the original site.

"Perhaps we could try digging in the foundations?" said Hermione disinterestedly.

"He won't put the Horcrux here." Harry knelt down, gently stroking the rough ground with his fingers, his eyes narrowed slightly, and his head ached from the glare of the sun.His scar is also aching, I don't know if it is an illusion.

Harry's scar was stinging again as they rested by the edge of a purple swamp in the afternoon.He covered it reflexively, realizing that this was not the emotional fluctuation of that piece of soul, but from a more distant main soul.A few images flashed through his mind quickly, and they became much blurrier than before. Harry tried hard to distinguish, but the images disappeared without warning.He opened his eyes and found himself sitting on the ground, dripping with sweat.

"What happened?" he murmured, this situation never happened.

"It sounds like you're sorry." The long-lost voice said, and Harry sniffed.This was the first time he had heard him speak in the past few days.

"Did you do it?"

"I don't think you'll need this in the future."

"Thank you very much, thank you for being nosy," he muttered, a little irritable, "but I want to be harassed more."

"I thought you hated those Cruciatus Curse," whispered Voldemort, and he heard a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"That's not it, only you did it on purpose." Harry choked him coldly, "I care more about what I can get than the pain."

"You're trying to say you're resilient."

"No—damn it, that's not what I meant!" He was a little annoyed, his face burning.Although everyone had hoped that he could learn Occlumency to prevent Voldemort from invading his brain, he was not at all happy when it suddenly happened.

"I think I know exactly what you mean," the man's voice was close at hand, soft and smooth as silk, and Harry had never felt so irritated because it sounded like it was speaking in his ear, "You are eager for that information , those, about me."

"Don't say you're shy."

"One more word, Potter—"

"It's a fact, we revolve around you every day, that's the purpose, isn't it?" Harry sarcastically said, "You have thinner skin than I thought, Voldemort."

The scar suddenly tingled, and Harry groaned, and fell to the ground with a pale face, propping up the wet ground with one hand.It's no good to show off the advantage of the tongue for a while, but he just couldn't help it.

"It seems that the reason why you are resistant to beating is because you have no progress." The man said cruelly.

Harry rubbed his reddened scar and slapped the mud off his palm, thankful that Hermione and Ron were both in the tent.But this created another kind of uneasiness in him, because he gradually discovered that his two friends seemed to be discussing things behind his back recently, and they stopped communicating as soon as he entered the tent.

They made no progress in their Horcrux search, apparating from camp to camp every now and then, each taking turns wearing the locket, every twelve hours or so.Harry's scar ached more often while wearing the locket, and he thought it was the Soul movie playing tricks - it was hard for him to tell the two of them apart without seeing the picture or hearing the sound.

Harry was beginning to suspect that his friends were resentful of him, and since things looked like they were wandering aimlessly, maybe they thought he had some secret plan to share.Ron never hid his bad mood, but Harry was terrified that Hermione was starting to disappoint him too.Under all kinds of pressure, he had to rack his brains to think about where the other Horcruxes might be, but Hogwarts was the only place he could think about. However, both Ron and Hermione thought it was impossible, so he stopped mentioning it.

He found that he couldn't ignore their attitudes, and even found it difficult to control his wild thoughts.Some details were glaring once noticed, and he could only keep those suspicions to himself, but that meant handing them over to another audience.

"If you don't rely foolishly on your so-called friends... I'm afraid it will go a lot faster."

Harry was pitching a tent with Ron and Hermione in the autumn woods covered with golden leaves when he heard this sentence.There are more and more dementors in the surrounding area, all-pervasive, and the icy fog they carry is mixed with the naturally generated fog, spreading despair invisibly.

Knowing that Voldemort was not going to give him any good advice, Harry just grunted inwardly without answering.

"At least it can reduce the useless time of self-pity."

"I don't feel sorry for myself," said Harry harshly.There was a wet lawn next to the woods, and he followed Hermione, trying to identify edible mushrooms and poisonous mushrooms among the lush grass.The evening wind blowing through the forest was very cold, and he shivered.

"I know what you're thinking, Potter."

Harry didn't make a sound, squatted down and pulled out two mushrooms with small white hats and threw them into the basket.He wiped the sweat off his brow, moved his stiff legs and continued to search for other mushrooms.

"If it's just you, you don't need to find so much food...and you don't need to listen to other people's complaints." The man said slowly.Harry involuntarily tightened his grip on the basket in his hand.He knew that at this moment he should retort loudly, reprimanding him for not knowing what friendship is, but he couldn't say a word, because Voldemort's words were exactly what he thought.

"They don't agree with you, but they can't come up with anything better... They're holding you back, Potter."

"You talk too much today."

"I never said I was silent."

"I think it's good for you to pretend that you don't exist like you did a few days ago." He said coldly, taking a breath, and the lenses were fogged up.His feet were almost completely numb, his socks were roughly wrapped around his toes, and his hands were freezing cold, but the mushrooms he picked only made a shallow layer on the bottom of the basket.He looked up, and Hermione was gone.

"It's time to go back and rest, Potter." Voldemort's voice was soft.This was the second time Harry felt that something he said made sense.

They couldn't find enough food for dinner and had to continue to endure Ron's whining.The next day he went to the river to catch fish, using the Flying Curse was much easier than he imagined.But when Harry looked at the charred, gray pieces of fish on his plate, he knew that this kind of life had to go on.

"My mother," Ron poked his head down at the fish on the plate, "can conjure delicious dishes out of thin air."

Harry glanced at him, and sure enough, he saw the gold chain of the Horcrux hanging around his neck, and barely suppressed the urge to scold Ron.

"Your mother can't conjure food out of thin air," said Hermione, "nor anyone. Things are the first of five exceptions to 'Gamp's Basic Law of Transfiguration'—"

"Oh, let's talk plainly, okay?"

"—it's impossible to conjure delicious food out of thin air! If you know where food is, you can call it; if you've got some, you can transfigure it, and you can multiply it—"

"Oh, there's no need to increase this, it's really unpalatable," said Ron.

"Harry caught the fish, I did my best! I found that I always got the food in the end, probably because I'm a girl!" She blushed, and couldn't control her volume.

"No, because it is said that you are the most proficient in magic!" Ron retorted.

Hermione jumped up, and pieces of grilled pike slid from her tin plate to the floor.

"You'll be in charge of the cooking tomorrow, Ron, and you can find the ingredients and find a way to turn them into something edible, and I'm sitting here with a long face and whining—"

This kind of quarrel happened once or twice a day, and Harry didn't join in their quarrel.He remained silent when Hermione spoke, and Hermione remained silent when he spoke, which was a tacit understanding between them.But even if he didn't say a word, he still felt that Hermione was right. They worked hard to prepare three meals a day. He had never hunted before, and Hermione had never cooked. It's done to the extreme, but a certain patient just doesn't appreciate it.