293 Chapter 15, The Art of Compromise

"Who are you?"

Peter Pettigrew asked in a trembling voice, paralyzed on the ground.

Hoffa lowered his head and looked carefully at the first character in the original story that he met after fifty years, feeling very fresh. He could see a buck-toothed dwarf covering his head, looking at him in disbelief.

The moonlight shone through the old window-sills in three spots on Peter Pettigrew's face, his thin, dull hair was disheveled and bald in a large patch on top. Looks wrinkled, with dirty skin, like a catholic who hasn't bathed in decades.

"I'm looking for Tom Riddle, is he at home?"

Hoffa let go of Naniji's tail, and he flipped over, swishing and swishing up the dusty floor tiles.

"He He."

The short man suppressed a smile that was uglier than crying, and sweat protruded from his big fat nose.

"He he. I don't know you. Who are you talking about sir?"

Hoffa squatted down, "Tom Marvolo Riddle, the greatest black magician, Voldemort, the mysterious man, don't you know him?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I'm just passing by"

Peter Pettigrew frantically backed away, leaving traces on the dusty ground, but there was a corner of the wall behind him, and there was no way for him to retreat.

"Lie, you know it."

Hoffa scowled.

At this time, the moonlight outside the mansion was shrouded in dark clouds, and Pettigrew's face was hidden in the darkness. At this moment, he handed out his wand, which turned into a dagger in mid-air.

"go to hell!"

He roared.

Bang!

If the tip of the knife stabs something hard, it cannot be stored. Hoffa grabbed his dagger helplessly, snatched it off, and turned it into a wand again.

The clouds cleared, and Peter Pettigrew looked into those strange golden eyes and let out a piercing short scream: "Ah!"

Accompanied by that scream, his body shrank rapidly, and soon, he turned into a little gray fur mouse, fleeing forward frantically.

Boom!

He slammed into a high wall that suddenly appeared, almost knocking himself out of his wits.

While being picked up again, his body twitched and twisted wildly, turning from a little mouse into a human again.

This is a situation that Peter Pettigrew has never seen before. The transformation technique he is proud of was resolved quietly, and the palm of the young bald man locked himself firmly like iron clamps. Hell, in his eyes, is he similar to that woven bag?

Hoffa took a step back and pressed Peter Pettigrew, who was hanging upside down, against the wall. Countless slender fingers appeared on the wall, hooking his body and making him unable to move.

"I'm looking for Tom, take me to his room." He said bitterly.

"You, who are you?"

I'm Tom's friend, I suppose. Hoffa smiled bitterly and said, "Let's just count." "

"...you're in the wrong place. You're in the wrong place. Here, here, no. There's no such thing as Tom."

Peter Pettigrew was hung upside down on the wall, his eyes rolled wildly, his face was flushed, cold sweat dripped from his chin to the ground.

"What are you afraid of?" Hoffa said helplessly, "I won't eat you, take me to meet your master, Voldemort."

But his consolation didn't have the slightest effect, Peter Pettigrew just flicked his hair wildly. Hoffa felt that he was a little exaggerated. Could it be that he looked so scary? Why didn't everyone want to talk to him properly.

So he squatted down again, wanting to persuade him. But Peter Pettigrew cried out in fright when he saw him squatting down, with snot and tears hanging upside down from his forehead, he was so embarrassed.

"Don't. Don't kill me. The Potters were killed by Sirius. The Longbottoms were killed by Barty Crouch Jr. and Bellatrix. I didn't do anything. Don't look for me. Don't look for me."

Seeing that the dwarf in front of him was about to pee in fright, Hoffa thought of something, so he rolled up his sleeves. Showing the black snake tattooed on his arm in front of Peter Pettigrew,

"Look, Peter, I really didn't come to hurt anyone."

Looking at the black snake on the opponent's arm, Peter Pettigrew's frightened face gradually turned into astonishment, and he stared blankly at the boy in front of him.

At the same time, a hoarse voice whispered in the air: "Who is where?"

The voice was erratic, echoing layer after layer in the empty and dilapidated hall. The tone is very weird, the words bounce like beads, mixed with the rustling sound of sliding.

Slap.

Pettigrew fell off the wall.

"Have we a guest, Wormtail, bring him up to me."

The wafting sound came from far to near, like a gust of wind passing by the ears of the two, and disappeared without a trace.

Peter Pettigrew stood up, staring at Hoffa's arm, licking his lips, still bewildered, as if he didn't understand why someone so young would have the sacred Dark Mark on his arm.

Hoffa handed him the wand and reminded him, "Lead the way."

He stood up in a jerk, took the wand, wiped it on his waist, and walked forward step by step.

Hoffa followed Peter, admiring the old and dilapidated building. He had to say that Riddle's ancestors were really rich. The huge beams on the ceiling criss-crossed and guarded by armored warriors full of dust and cobwebs. Various ancient ornaments hanging indoors. On the farthest wall, there is a giant comedy mask with squinting eyes and a creepy smile, which is more weird than the Valhalla Temple in Norse mythology, where the spirits of fallen soldiers are enshrined. On the opposite wall , is a tragic mask of the same specification. Both are carved from ancient oak. Between the two huge masks, one sad and one happy, is an extremely large iron candlestick covered with cobwebs hanging straight from the ceiling.

Maybe even Riddle himself has to admit that his patrilineal family, which he has always despised, is more aristocratic than the dilapidated Gaunt old house before.

Through the gloomy corridor full of Gothic style, Peter Pettigrew led Hoffa to a study at the top of the third floor, and opened the door for him.

Standing at the door and looking around, the only visible materials are leather and oak, or oak and stone. The only light in the house was the fire in the fireplace. The fireplace was a full twelve feet wide. Years of smoke and years of polishing gave the whole fireplace a bronze luster. At this moment, the fire is still burning quietly, but there is not much temperature.

A large and elegant chair was placed in front of the fireplace. Under the chair was a body with a long tail, which was Naniji who had just escaped.

Sensing someone entering the room, Naniji squatted on the floor and looked back at him, then immediately shrank his head back and hid behind the chair.

"Who's where, Wormtail?"

The voice came from behind the wide chair.

"You your other servant. Master."

Peter Pettigrew looked at Hoffa and stammered.

"Is it Bella? Or Buddy?"

The voice in front of the fire asked softly, with a somewhat urgent tone.

Hoffa, standing against the backlight, stood in the huge shadow, motionless. Peter Pettigrew had receded at this moment, and from the corner of Hoffa's eyes, he could see a huge purple snake that was extremely concealed on the ceiling, motionless. moving, staring at himself like a statue.

"who is it?"

The voice in front of the chair became confused.

"It's me, Tom,"

Hoffa said with emotion: "Long time no see."

silence.

Even though he couldn't see the guy's appearance through the back of the chair, Hoffa could feel the guy's body froze at this moment.

For a while, there was no sound in the hall. In the silence, only the crackling of the fire could be heard.

I don't know how long the long wait will be.

Then, the chair in front made a grinding sound and slowly turned around.

Hoffa saw the face of this old classmate clearly, even though he was mentally prepared, he still couldn't help arching the back of his feet at this moment.

His image is a curled up baby, hairless, scales seem to grow on his body, and his skin is dark red like blood, like the red flesh under the scabbed gauze. Its arms and legs were thin and limp, and his face was as flat as if it had been splashed with sulfuric acid. There was no lip, and only a pair of dull blood-red eyes could be seen on the top.

Those bloody eyes stared at the young man who came in, and the expression on his face changed from disbelief, shock, and confusion, and finally became extremely serious, showing an expression that was about to rain.

"It's you."

He squeezed out a few words between his teeth, and the voice contained monstrous hatred: "Hoffa Bach!"

The four dark walls gradually blurred, and the fire automatically dimmed as if to match the atmosphere. The entire Riddle Mansion, Tom, Naniji, and Peter Pettigrew were all immersed in a chilling atmosphere at this moment.

Naniji, with his head resting on the chair, quickly climbed to the corner. On the ceiling, the hidden big purple snake was winding and circling, and slowly swam under Tom's chair.

The air was so gloomy that it seemed as if water could drip.

In the midst of the tension, Tom Riddle suddenly let out a strange laugh: "You are still so young."

"You're younger than me, you're a baby," Hoffa said.

"Yeah, life is hard, your hair is gone."

Hoffa smiled, "You too."

The fire intensified, and everything seemed to be settled.

He put down the woven bag in his hand and took a step forward slowly.

That's it.

The big purple snake under Tom Riddle's chair suddenly turned into a meteor, passed through Hoffa's body, and slammed into the wooden door behind him with a bang, knocking the entire door away.

The smoke and dust billowed, Peter Pettigrew, who was hiding behind the door, let out a terrified scream and ran away with his head in his arms.

"kill him!"

Tom Riddle let out a high-pitched scream from the chair.

Naniji, who was hiding in the shadows, also rushed up, circling, opened his bloody mouth, and bit Hoffa's body, but that body slowly turned into a fuzzy phantom, dissipating in the air .

"You're dull, Tom."

Hoffa's body slowly emerged from the side of the fireplace, and he sighed, "I'm not here to fight you this time."

As soon as the words fell, the two big snakes behind him were grabbed by countless stone hands, and they were pressed firmly to the ground. The stone hands were densely packed until the two snakes were pressed into mummies.

"We...have nothing to talk about"

The hideous-looking baby was panting, gnashing his teeth, as if it took all his strength to move, he clasped the back of the chair tightly, and looked at Hoffa in despair, "Who told you my location? Albus Dumbledore, that old bastard, or Lucius Malfoy, say it! Say it!!"

Hoffa shook his head, "None."

"You don't want to plot against me!"

Tom raised his neck desperately, "You can kill me once, you can kill me twice, but one day, I will make you pay the worst price!"

Hoffa crouched down, golden eyes looking into red ones.

Voldemort on the chair tried his best to curl up into a ball, his body trembling, but the hatred in his eyes became stronger and stronger, under the hatred, there was an uncontrollable fear.

Hoffa looked down and sighed.

"If I want you to die, why should I stay here for so long, you should be weaker than ever before."

Hoffa continued: "I know you really want to kill me, because of those things fifty years ago, but this is unrealistic. Your current appearance is worse than mine."

"Don't kill me, what do you want to do?"

"I wanted to ask you for something," Hoffa said.

"Fantasy, you can't get anything from me." Tom Riddle screamed.

"I want Peverell's resurrection secret, can you give it to me?" Hoffa ignored Tom Riddle's resistance and said to himself: "In exchange, I can give Nicole Flamel's Philosopher's Stone to you. "

silence.

Still silent.

The expression on Tom's face gradually changed from fury and fear to confusion, and his wide red eyes narrowed into a narrow slit.

? ? ?

After a while, Tom Riddle asked grimly, "Why do you want the resurrection technique? Aren't you alive and well?"

Hoffa didn't answer, staring at him firmly.

The two looked at each other in silence for a while, and suddenly Tom Riddle showed surprise and understanding on his face: "Could it be that you want to resurrect that? Your...what is that Ravenclaw girlfriend?"

"Aglaia."

Hoffa was decisive.

"Hahahahaha!!"

The little baby in front of him suddenly burst into a high-pitched, high-pitched laugh, so wildly that he rolled into a ball on his chair.

"Hahahahahahaha!! Hahahaha. Sad! Sad! Sad!" He cursed out of breath, "Sad, sad, sad, sad, it's been fifty years, and I haven't seen you in five years. Ten years, you have nothing but strength, you have only an unprecedented transformation, you can get whatever you want, but your vision is so narrow that you can only accommodate one woman!"

There was no more fear in his eyes, and he even supported himself with those soft legs, stood up from under the chair tremblingly, pointed at Hoffa's nose and cursed furiously:

"Why can't you be like me, thinking of conquering the world, why can't you be like a real normal person, a mortal person, when you conquer the world, you can have as many women as you want! You can have as many money as you want How much money! As much power as you want! Aren’t those things ten thousand times stronger than a lowly half-breed Veela?”

"People are different, Tom."

Hoffa was not angry, but said calmly.

"Yes, yes, people are different, Bach."

Tom stared at his red eyes, panting heavily,

"That's why I hate you, not because you killed me once, Hoffa Bach, because you're not like us, you've been an oddity, a freak from start to finish.

But let me tell you, this world can't tolerate heterogeneous people, freaks, bullshit, equality and fraternity. I don't understand and approve of the way of life you showed me, let alone anyone! "

After finishing speaking, he plopped down on the chair, looked at Hoffa unscrupulously, as if he had caught his weakness, and said triumphantly:

"Come on, come on, if you want to get Peverell's resurrection technique, if you want to get the secret of human body refining, kill me, use death as a threat! Come on!"

Tom Riddle curled up on the chair and laughed wildly: "Can you do it, Ravenclaw? Can you do it, Hoffa Bach!?"

Hoffa stood up, took a step back, and said nothing.

Tom Riddle laughed even happier: "Hahaha, look at you, look at you, you Ravenclaws who compare themselves to being arrogant, you finally asked for me, Slytherin. If you ask for one, you will not be able to do so at all." On the heads of people who don't like it, and don't approve of it at all, hahahahahahahaha cough cough cough"

He laughed, laughed, and suddenly coughed violently. Not only did he cough, but he also vomited out a puddle of cloudy white liquid. There was an unbearable stench in the air.

"Wormtail!"

He slumped weakly on the chair, "Wormtail!!"

Peter Pettigrew, who was shivering in the distance, rushed over and supported Voldemort, who was limp and coughing. He took out a dirty silk scarf from his pocket, wiped his mouth, and asked tremblingly: "How are you, master, don't be angry, don't be angry, there is still some in the bottle, master, if you are still hungry, just..."

"Shut up, idiot!"

Tom didn't care what he was saying, but pointed at Hoffa:

"Do you know who this person is?"

"Master. I. I don't know."

Peter Pettigrew stammered and looked at Hoffa and said.

"do not know!?"

Tom Riddle suddenly opened his red eyes, and said excitedly: "I don't know, I'll let you learn more, let me tell you, his name is Hofbach, a man who saved Hogwarts three times, a man who can save the world." The man, the strongest transfiguration master in history, the final glory of Ravenclaw, a legend like a living fossil."

"Um?"

Peter Pettigrew wiped his cold sweat and forced a fake smile, "That's really, really amazing."

"roll!!"

Tom Riddle snapped angrily.

Peter Pettigrew was taken aback, he let go of his hand, at a loss, embarrassed, obediently backed away, and disappeared into the darkness.

Tom Riddle raised his palm tremblingly, wiped the corner of his mouth, and said bitterly: "See, this kind of people are the most numerous people in the world, the most mediocre people, they don't care about legends or not. Don't care what you've done, they only want power, they only want women, they only want money, they won't be influenced by any bullshit love and hope, they will only succumb to violence - but given the chance, they will beat Anyone is more violent! And the only way to deal with people like them is to be a thousand times, ten thousand times more violent than them!"

"Why are you telling me this? It has nothing to do with our deal."

Hoffa looked at him calmly, "I will exchange it with you with the Philosopher's Stone."

"Heh heh heh the Sorcerer's Stone, fuck the Sorcerer's Stone."

Tom Riddle finally calmed down a bit after he finished talking. He looked at Hoffa, let out a long breath, his voice softened rarely, and there was a sarcasm in his eyes: "I will tell you about Peverell's secret. To you, I'll even give you the Resurrection Stone, Hoffa. My dear Hoffa, of course I would, those things are dead, objects."

"What's the price?" Hoffa asked.

Tom Riddle said gently: "You know, from the first day of the orphanage, I have never changed my attitude, as long as you"

"As long as I am what?"

"Hmph, as long as you are with me, stand by my side. Completely and sincerely, change yourself and integrate into us."

"It's that simple?"

Hoffa raised an eyebrow.

"You don't want to impale me with mistletoe again!?"

Tom Riddle suddenly yelled, "I tell you, without me, you will accomplish nothing in the end!! You will grow old and die in solitude, and you will be trampled, cast aside and forgotten by those mediocre people!!!"

silence.

Hoffa looked at the furious Riddle without speaking. He turned around and walked to his bag, lifted the bag of fruit, put it in front of Tom Riddle, and then took out an apple from the bag, with the peel under his fingers, rustling fall.

Finally, he peeled an apple and handed it to Tom:

"I won't."