School. The news on the "Prophet Daily" indicated that the attacks had indeed decreased recently, and even the newspapers were speculating about what the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, was up to. Various social commentators in the magical world were offering various speculations. Harry was a bit relieved; everything seemed to be the best sign. He needed to behave well, and he was certain he could persuade his father to stop the war. Besides... he was enjoying it himself.

Later, the classmate who hosted the daily news privately asked Harry, "Do you know anything? Has the Potter family told you anything?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

Jess asked, "The Potter family doesn't know either... That's really strange. By the way, why didn't you grow up with the Potter family? You have a foster father, right? He seems like a decent person."

Harry replied, "He's a decent person, are you sure?"

Harry couldn't help but think, weren't you constantly criticizing him?


Harry continued to use magic to expand the roses outside his window. His flowers started as just a handful, but he slowly grew more and more, soon covering the entire flowerbed.

One day, after school, he continued to water the flowers he had planted and nurtured them with a bit of magic.

"Don't waste your magic here," Voldemort said somewhat displeased. "You still have injuries."

"Well... but this little garden looks so beautiful, doesn't it?" Harry looked at him with a hint of disappointment.

"Then use less magic, Harry, I'm doing it for your own good."

"I know." Harry's emerald eyes brightened up again, "It's just... these flowers were a gift from my father before. I really like them."


After school, Voldemort took Harry to a vineyard in France. They admired the beautiful vineyards in full harvest in September and then sat in a tasting room. A waiter in a suit and bowtie brought a bottle of red wine and a tall glass, saying respectfully, "Mr. Miveld, please enjoy."

This time, the Dark Lord had chosen a different alias, Tord Miveld.

When Harry first heard this alias, he blinked in confusion, thinking, at least it's not Tom this time, but Tord isn't a rare name, and Miveld is just an ordinary Muggle surname. It's really strange. Then Harry thought again, it's an alias, of course, it should be low-key, ordinary names and surnames are the right choice.

The red wine was poured into the glass, and Voldemort picked up the glass and swirled it in his hand. "Can Harry taste wine?"

Harry shook his head, a bit curious, "Father knows everything... Can you teach me?"

"Look at the edge of the wine, see how it clings to the glass." Voldemort swirled the wine in his glass and pointed to the remnants of color clinging to the glass's edge. "Light color on the edge, long clinging time, that's an aged wine." He began teaching Harry about wine, and Harry learned while tasting. The process was quite interesting, and before he knew it, he was a bit tipsy.

They brought back some red wine that Harry said was delicious, passing through the lush rose garden Harry had planted in the courtyard. Back in their room, they continued to enjoy wine until late at night. Harry's cheeks were rosy, and he leaned on the table, his green eyes fixed on Voldemort.

Voldemort asked, "What is it?"

Harry said, "I've always loved Father the most... I love Father the most."

Being drunk impairs one's self-control. The words that Harry had always kept hidden in his heart came out under the influence of alcohol, shining like the bubbles in a carbonated drink in the sunlight—youthful, yet passionate.

Later, Voldemort carried Harry back to his bedroom. However, Harry grabbed the hem of his robes and said, "Father, don't go... I want to talk to Father..."

He was usually too restrained and never dared to make such a straightforward request.

Voldemort originally intended to leave Harry here and ignore him, but one sentence from Harry made him hesitate. "...I'm afraid that if I wake up, I'll find that it's all a dream, that it's not real..."

"Then I'll stay with you here and won't go anywhere, alright?"

"Yeah... I'll stay with Father too." Harry obediently hugged the older man and nuzzled against him.

"You said that, Harry, so I won't leave tonight." Voldemort looked at Harry, whose cheeks were slightly flushed, and his emerald eyes were covered in a hazy mist. He remembered the passionate kiss they shared on the Ferris wheel.

He then thought about certain intimate matters between lovers. Tom Riddle had never thought about engaging in such activities with others; he didn't like intimate contact with anyone. But if the other person was Harry... he didn't feel like he was losing out.

So, his determination turned his thoughts into actions. After all, he had consumed some alcohol. Besides, it had its advantages for his plans.

Harry, who was intoxicated, was somewhat surprised but didn't resist. In fact, he initiated an embrace, which pleased Voldemort.


The next morning, Harry was awakened early by his internal clock. He looked at the magnified, handsome face of his father sleeping beside him, realizing that he was not wearing any clothes himself, and his face turned crimson. As he shifted slightly, he felt a peculiar sensation in a certain part of his body.

Harry stared in astonishment at his still-sleeping father, and his brain seemed to malfunction. Oh my, what did they do last night?

It's not that he minded; Harry didn't really mind, given his past experiences, he was somewhat indifferent to such matters. Besides, he loved his father, and he later learned that this was something lovers did.

But... why would his father suddenly want to do this? His father had never shown any interest in such matters. Did Harry do something out of line last night? Harry couldn't remember, and the more he thought about it, the more guilty he felt.

Then Voldemort opened his eyes. "Good morning, my Harry."

"Uh, good morning, Father! Last night... I'm sorry... did I bother you?" Harry's gaze shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, not at all. Harry was quite charming last night," Voldemort teased. He was somewhat surprised by Harry's reaction; he had even considered how to console Harry if he woke up feeling resistant, but he didn't expect Harry to apologize as soon as he woke up. Why was he so silly?

Harry felt even more embarrassed and buried himself under the covers.

Voldemort, on the other hand, tightened his arm around Harry. "It's still early; you can go back to sleep."

"Is this really not a dream?" Harry closed his eyes, unable to believe it.

"It's not a dream," Voldemort affirmed in his ear.

However, the true complexity of his intentions remained known only to the Dark Lord.


Recent developments had become increasingly absurd. Yet, Harry couldn't help but enjoy his secret dates with his father. His love for him burned so intensely, and the emotions were undeniably real!

He had felt guilty and doubtful at times, but he truly needed all of this. In the past, he had spent his entire life deeply loving his father, and now it seemed that he finally had a response. It gave a glimmer of hope to his dying soul. He needed that bit of warmth and solace so badly... he was so desperate for it.

And besides, this had the potential to end the war, didn't it? After all, his father was immortal now; no one could kill him, defeat him, or trap him. Harry knew about their eternal ritual; the Dark Lord was invincible. Harry could only persuade him, and sometimes when he felt anxious, he would tell himself that what he was doing was the right thing; there was nothing wrong with it.


Voldemort looked at his to-do list on his phone. Some items had already been crossed off, and he scrolled down to the next one: "Meet each other's parents." Oh, go to the Potter family to cause trouble? Or go dance at the old Riddle grave? Voldemort briefly imagined the scenes, appreciating this dark humor.

He silently skipped that item and continued scrolling down to the next note. This one was detailed with specific plans, as it was highly feasible: "Go to the beach to watch the sunset."


After school, Harry sat in the passenger seat as they left the school grounds.

"Do you have something on your mind? What are you thinking about?" Voldemort asked.

"I..." Harry had been unable to stop thinking about what had happened last night all day. He glanced at his father, then looked away, lowering his head, and his ears turned red.

"The weather is nice today. How about we go to the beach to relax?" Voldemort suggested seemingly casually.

Several seagulls circled in the sky, happily squawking. The pleasant sea breeze rustled through their hair and clothes, bringing a hint of early autumn coolness. The sea sparkled in the sunlight, transparent like a piece of blue-green glass. The sand was fine and soft, like a golden blanket under their feet. Some other tourists were sunbathing on the beach, while children played with the sand.

"Hey handsome, can you give me your phone number?" a passing bikini-clad young lady attempted to flirt with Voldemort but wasn't successful. Instead, the handsome Voldemort chose to play in the sand with Harry.

"Why don't we build a sandcastle together with them?" Voldemort suggested with amusement.

"Sure." Harry was not a child who played much; he had been busy with work from a young age and didn't know how to play. But here, he followed the others, learning by imitation.

"I remember when I was a child, I once built a sandcastle at the beach. But it was washed away by a big wave," Voldemort said in a casual tone.

"We can use magic to keep it from being destroyed by the waves," Harry said absentmindedly as he carved windows and doors into the sand fortress.

"Exactly," Voldemort smiled. He hadn't expected much from this beach trip initially, but now he was excited.

The sun gradually set, the sky turned into shades of gold and red, and the sea glistened, reflecting the afterglow of the sunset. People on the beach took out their phones to capture this rare beauty.

Voldemort took out the phone Harry had given him and framed Harry against the sunset in the camera. Harry's emerald eyes sparkled, looking very beautiful.

Seagulls continued to squawk happily, snatching fries from the hands of tourists before flying away.

"I suddenly thought..." Harry, however, tilted his head and looked at the sandcastle in front of him. His hands stopped moving. "What's the difference between a castle and sand? What turns sand into a castle? In essence, a castle is still just grains of sand, right? When we use magic to preserve it, what are we preserving? When the waves destroy it, what is being destroyed?"

"Oh, Harry, what do you think?" Voldemort asked.

"Maybe... it's the relationships between the individual grains of sand. Or, it's a kind of combination," Harry's eyes sparkled. "And the sum of these combinations is what we call a castle. A castle is actually a higher-level emergence of sand."

"Emergence?" Voldemort, being exceptionally intelligent, had already understood halfway through Harry's explanation. "So, you mean that magical rituals are also a form of emergence?"

"Yes," Harry said, patting the outer wall of the sandcastle. Voldemort saw that Harry seemed to be trying to build something that resembled a Slytherin family castle. "Or maybe everything is like this. Even between atoms, there are certain specific relationships that form specific new substances."

The remaining daylight grew dimmer with time, and the scattered clouds on the horizon turned deep blue. The sky was gradually enveloped in twilight.

Harry had a keen sense that there was something crucial about the principles of eternity hidden behind this word, but at the moment, he couldn't articulate it. He didn't even know how to begin asking.

Speaking of that word, Harry once again recalled what had happened last night. This matter had been circling in his mind all day. They had kissed, they had slept together. What exactly were they now?

"Relationship... What's our relationship now?" Harry asked in a low voice, unsure if his voice was drowned out by the sound of the waves.

Perhaps Voldemort didn't hear him as he didn't reply. Instead, he shaped sand into an archway, connecting the tower of Harry's sandcastle to the main building.

After some more time had passed, the sun had completely set below the horizon, and the tourists had dispersed. The sea had turned pitch black, deep and vast, losing the clear and bright appearance it had under the sunlight. The sky was shrouded in twilight.

A single star hung in the western sky. In the magical world, astronomy was a required subject, and both of them recognized that star—it was Venus.

Harry looked at that bright point of light, the brightest star in the sky, which had always been closely associated with love in the magical world. The question in Harry's mind remained unspoken. He knew that his father always despised the concept of "love."

"Father, look, the stars are out." Harry pointed to the stars in the sky, speaking with a deeper meaning. "Venus is very bright for tonight."

"Indeed, Venus is very bright," Voldemort affirmed.

In the Wizarding world, Venus symbolized "love and beauty." This was common knowledge. Both of them knew it, and they were well aware that the other knew.

Upon hearing this, Harry felt somewhat relieved. He patted the last bit of sand onto the top of the castle. The sandcastle wasn't large, and it wasn't very intricate, but Harry felt genuinely happy. Moreover, his father had helped during the process.

"I've finished it! This is our joint creation!" Harry exclaimed, using magic to create a shield around the completed sandcastle. "The tide is rising soon. This way, it won't be washed away by the waves, right?"

"A Shield Charm will last at most a few hours. Do you know how far that is from true eternity? We might as well look at the stars," Voldemort said.

Voldemort held Harry's hand and with a side-along Apparition, they appeared on a large reef far from the shore. Voldemort didn't let go of that icy, slender hand. On this moonless night during high tide, the vast and boundless dark sea stretched in all directions. Waves surged and crashed against the rugged rocks beneath their feet. There was no light from street lamps around, and the stars in the sky immediately shone brightly. The summer night sky hadn't yet completely set, and the beautiful constellation Cygnus seemed to float in the Milky Way, its brilliant stars resembling shattered diamond dust.