Chapter 643

"No, damn it, no... I can't do that! You... Who are you? Why... Why, why, why? Why are you pestering me..."

Late one night, a vague murmur sounded again on a silver and green exquisite single bed. Although it was far from dawn, the room was almost as bright as day.

"... stay away from me... No, don't come near me... What are you..."

The layout of the room can be said to be in good order.

Although expensive furniture and furnishings can be seen everywhere in the details, if someone comes here for the first time, what he feels at first sight is not expensive and pressing, but everything that should be orderly has been sorted out. The books on the bookshelf are arranged in perfect alignment. The collections in the display cabinet are separated by the same distance from each other, and there is no dust in every corner.

"... don't come again... No... don't come again..."

This is a rather old manor, but the people living here are still cautious about this ancestral house handed down by their ancestors and adhere to almost harsh living habits. This sense of honor derived from the surname makes the family never dare to despise the noble tradition left by their ancestors, even if most wizards have long thought it was just a bad habit.

"... let me go!"

Suddenly, on the desk, the fire dragon model of Hungarian tree bee raised its head and spewed out a mass of flame. At the moment of dragon breath, a loud cry sounded from the quilt, and then the people on the bed suddenly sat up.

This is a handsome big boy. His meticulously combed short blond hair has been ravaged by the pillow like straw in a chicken nest, and the bangs on his forehead have even been glued into several strands by the exuding sweat. If he put this embarrassing picture in the past, it would be absolutely unbearable for him.

"Hoo... Hoo..."

He kept panting, wiped the sweat on his forehead, and gathered his messy hair behind his head. This is purely unconscious behavior, because I always had this hairstyle when I was a child. Although I don't like doing that anymore, the habit I formed since childhood has finally been engraved into my bones.

"... damn it!"

After calming his heavy breathing, he clenched his fists and hammered heavily on the mattress on his side, making a dull sound of "bang".

"Honey, are you having another nightmare? Are you okay?" with a burst of footsteps in the corridor, a female voice suddenly came out of the door, "can I come in, baby?"

"No, no... I'm fine, mother!" he answered loudly as soon as he heard it.

"Really, really all right? Oh -" the voice outside obviously hesitated to the extreme, which was a feeling of worrying about the child and not wanting to make the child unhappy. "Well... If you need it, mom will always be there."

"I see."

I don't know when it started... Well, maybe it was the last time my father brought my mother back? At that time, as soon as he saw his mother coming home, he rushed up immediately, but in the twinkling of an eye, he fainted on the spot. According to the family therapist, he was in a temporary coma caused by excessive mental fluctuations caused by excitement.

In fact, on the surface, it was true, because it was not long before he woke up by himself.

But since that day, he began to have nightmares. At first, he only did it once every other period of time. Although the dreams were surprisingly similar, he didn't care too much.

However, nightmares soon began to occur frequently. From once every five or six days to almost every night now, the situation has become serious.

Of course, the therapist must have seen it, and there is more than one. Not to mention the exclusive therapists employed by the family, even the most famous St. Mungo therapists in the British magic world have specially invited them to visit their homes, but they have hardly found anything.

The reason why it is "almost" is that although the expert failed to diagnose specific problems, he basically set the general direction of the causes of frequent nightmares on the "soul".

Unfortunately, the failure of diagnosis is the failure of diagnosis, and the problem has not been solved.

The only thing, however, was that he had never told anyone from the beginning to the end. This includes his parents and all the therapists who have examined him.

In fact, it's not that he can't say it, but that he doesn't know whether to say it or not. Yes, from the current situation, this terrible nightmare has even affected his rest. Insufficient sleep makes him more and more tired every day, and his mental state is extremely poor.

But he just... He's really a little reluctant to let this damn nightmare leave him. While his heart is full of fear and disgust, his heart is shaken... Because he can clearly feel that a force is constantly breeding, growing, fermenting and spreading in his body

This is a temptation mixed with pain, which makes it difficult for him to cut it off.

"But... But..." he raised his hand and put it in front of his eyes. Looking at the darkness passing between his fingers, he whispered, "why do you have to ask me to do those stupid things? It has been proved last time? The fact is, even Weasley is not such a fool... You want me to kill McLean? I haven't been scared crazy by that boring nightmare!"

Needless to say, there was a dark black in the highly similar dreams. The black came to him again and again, and then kept pestering him, tearing him and gnawing at him... Although there was no pain in the dream, the vivid dream made him tremble.

The feeling of being swallowed up by the unknown darkness is too real! It's horrible!

Even if he refused to admit that he had little courage since he was a child, the fact that he was not brave enough has been undeniable.

"Although I don't know what it is, since it encourages me to try to kill McLean again and again, doesn't it indirectly show that... McLean is likely to be its natural enemy?"

He thought so and kept thinking. In fact, the idea had wandered in his mind for many times. Yes, if he is determined to eliminate this nightmare from his life, finding Maka should be the most correct choice.

Even if he guessed wrong, McLean is not its natural enemy, but McLean's strength can still become the most powerful wizard he can please.

But every time I think about it, I

He raised the palm of his right hand again and controlled the black to spiral silently between his palms. This full sense of power and control really fascinated him.

When he was slightly stunned, the light from the corner of his eyes flashed over the desk beside the bed and inadvertently caught a glimpse of the fire dragon model that could only move freely in place on the table. He blinked, and a trace of gray appeared on his delicate and pale face, which was the shadow caused by the light when he lowered his head slightly.

After a little hesitation, he waved away the shadow in his palm and extended his hand to the fire dragon the size of a palm. The little guy turned his head and looked at his white palm. Then he gently flapped the Dragon Wings and jumped into his hand.

This is his father's birthday present. It's a souvenir bought from the Romanian dragon farm. Because this is a purely personal gadget, it is not a large number, and its fine and vivid posture shows its great value.

In his hand, the fire dragon model is still as vivid as when he first got it, and has not changed at all; But the man who gave it to him is still lying in bed with a tired face.

It was the time when my father went out to find his mother's whereabouts that seemed to be somewhere in Germany. When the father finally found the missing mother, he was accidentally injured by the mother who was hit by the soul snatching curse.

At the moment when my father fell to the ground, my mother broke free from the shackles of the soul snatching curse and woke up, but the serious injury has become a reality.

As for who the soul snatching mantra came from, we all have some numbers in our hearts, but we never talk about it. Needless to say, if Voldemort didn't put it at home, it must be Bellatrix, the crazy woman he lived with.

"Father, you said... What should I do... How should I choose?"

He couldn't say this in front of his father, but he spoke to a model in bed. It can be seen that his dependence on his father is still as strong as that in his childhood, but the growth caused by the once disintegration of his family makes him unwilling to let his grieved father worry more.

He knew he was not a brave man, and his father, whom he worshipped since childhood, was not.

After holding the fire dragon model in his hand and playing it absently for a while, he put it back on the table. The curtains in front of the table were tightly closed, and the outside light could not penetrate, which made him wonder whether the outside sky had quietly lit up.

If you look at the time shown on the dial, it will probably take two or three hours before dawn?

"Ah --"

He let himself fall into bed again and again. In the endless tangle, the fatigue of lack of sleep pulled him into a hazy dream again. As for whether he would fall into the nightmare as before, he had no spare power to worry, because his mental fatigue had reached the limit.

Of course, the terrible dream will continue and accompany him until the dust of his final choice is settled.

On the bedside table beside the pillow, a potion class notebook with a green background and a silver edge was lying there. At the bottom of the cover, a small signature, Draco Malfoy, was written in silver ink.