My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

"Nelson, you are so fat!"

As soon as the door of the lounge was opened, a five-layer cake that was one person tall came into Nelson's eyes. Under his arm was an oil painting wrapped in oil paper. It looked like a painting thief was caught in front of the museum. write.

"What's wrong? Has anyone had a birthday?"

Looking at the fruit-covered cake with candles inserted, Nelson took a step back and suffocated "Happy birthday."

"No, no, this is for you!" Alphad pushed the dining car and sang the school anthem in the tune of a birthday song. The surrounding students helped him to accompany him in harmony. Only then did Nelson see the strawberry jam written on the cake. "Hogwarts will win," a smile appeared unconsciously on his face.

He received a grand welcome from his classmates. Everyone huddled around and surrounded him, as if he was the real warrior. The Slytherin female prefect still dared to squeeze in front of him, flashing a pair of them. Shui Lingling's big eyes confessed affectionately: "You look so handsome when you are knocked and sap lying on the ground."

This is a cheerful girl with wheat-colored skin and disobedient black hair. She seems to have been struck by lightning. People often treat her as a wizard in Africa because of her image. But she It's a real British.

Nelson only felt a mouthful of old blood surge up, and his eyes were dark, which was more uncomfortable than sap.

"Thank you, do you want to be as handsome as me? Dalian?" Nelson stared at the hippy smiling girl in front of him with a ugly expression, threatening, "I can help you, but my sap is very big. ."

"Quack quack~" Alphad laughed like a duck. The lounge was as cheerful as a holiday. He noticed the portrait of Nelson wrapped in oil paper and asked curiously, "What is this? German engineer ?"

"This is a portrait." Nelson shook his head, leaning the portrait on the back of the chair, and asked casually, "What about Tom? Is he not back yet?"

"Not yet, we have been waiting for him," Walburga said excitedly, "His first game was awesome!"

"Of course," Nelson said noncommittal, resentfully, "at least he survived Margaret's sap."

"Alright, alright, let's eat the cake." In order to wait for the two contestants, Alphad was already hungry, and just picked up the knife to distribute the cake, "Do you have any fruit? I'll cut a portion for you. "

"No, Professor Dumbledore gave me some lemon biscuits," Nelson declined the cake in the middle of the night, "but if Tom comes back later--"

"It's okay, we prepared a big meal for him," Alphad moved quickly, and a group of Slytherins lined up to pick up the cake from him. "Also, everyone has been waiting for a long time, so you have to eat something. Only children have the strength to celebrate, don’t they?"

In a short while, everyone got a piece of his own cake, and together enjoyed the joy of victory in this small lounge because of the large number of people.

"By the way, what do you think they said about the'information about the second level'?" Alphad, who had divided the cake, was also full, and sat in the corner of the lounge by the door with Nelson, who was also empty-handed." Will it be something like a riddle?"

"Generally speaking, in some famous literary works," Nelson replied casually, recalling his impression of the Triwizard Tournament, "this'second level information' will be a golden egg that can be opened, but it is easy When you open it, you can only hear the screaming noise of a banshee. Only by taking it to the prefect’s bathroom on the sixth floor and opening the golden egg in the water can you hear the sound inside and know the content of the next game. ."

"squeak--"

The door of the lounge opened, and Tom walked in tiredly with a big golden egg in his arms. He just heard Nelson's nonsense and his expression changed suddenly.

"Is this the prophet..." Tom gave Nelson a deep look with "I really believe in evil", and suddenly remembered the betting agreement with Nelson, put the golden egg aside, and attached his right hand to his chest. Before, bowed deeply, "Thank you, my great Dark Lord."

"I..." Nelson scratched his head, and the question mark above his head jumped. "I'm kidding."

Tom didn't listen to his explanation, and ran out holding the egg on his own, not even closing the door.

"It looks like he went to the prefect's bathroom," Alphad, who had been ignored from start to finish, shrugged and exclaimed, "Is this the strength of the prophet?"

"Okay, I admit that this is what Sigmund, the principal of Durmstrang, called me during dinner." Nelson stood up, picked up the portrait at hand, and chased out the door, "Hey , Tom, wait for me!"

"Phone? What's that?" Alphad rubbed his chin, thinking about Nelson's indiscriminate message. "Has the referee team gone off the court to participate in the cheating?"

...

The corridor outside the Slytherin Lounge is still the same as before, like the underworld. In order to show the college style in front of the staff of the school, Professor Slughorn specially arranged for school workers to replace the candles in the corridor with the one that emits green fire. In the lounge, Nelson felt like he was a tomb robber.

Tom was holding the golden egg and had already walked a long way away. He was about to disappear around the corner. He was yelled at by Nelson's cry. He turned around, and under his bleak green face was a candle dyed. Fluorescent green golden egg.

Nelson stepped forward and ran towards him with the portrait, his robe making a crashing sound like a building collapsed.

"Are you going to the bathroom with me? Lord Dark Lord," Tom put the egg under his arm, took out a small notebook from his pocket and looked at it, and asked with a smile, "But you may have to wait. There are two other people taking a shower in front, and the appointment is until half past ten."

"No," Nelson, who ran to Tom, shook his head, "I'll go to the principal's office to send a portrait, Slytherin's, and you will drop by."

"Oh, okay," Tom nodded, put the notebook back in his pocket, raised the golden egg and teased, "My lord Dark Lord, you guessed it is absolutely correct. I opened it during the day, and there was indeed a banshee tip inside. The noise of howling is truly a prophet! But if you can directly predict the event, it would be great."

The two walked side by side in the deserted castle. After the carnival, even the most naughty students didn't bother to swim at night.

"This is a question that Professor Sigmund missed for me." Nelson made up a lie without blushing, perhaps because the second time he said it, it sounded true this time.

Standing at the corner of the stairs, Nelson covered his face and emphasized, "Tom, don't talk about the'Dark Lord' anymore. That's a joke, not counting."

"How come? I take it seriously, Lord Dark Lord," Tom raised his eyebrows and said cheerfully, "After all, you did knock that Kant down in a few strokes. I'm willing to lose the bet, you know."

"But I didn't make a bet with you..."

"Is there anyone in the UK who doesn't like to bet?" Tom rubbed Nelson's hair with a grin, put it close to his face, and said word by word, "My Lord Dark Lord."

Nelson slammed his head, and hit Tom's forehead with a hammer. Tom almost sat on the ground holding the golden egg. Fortunately, he grabbed the handrail of the stairs and didn't break the golden egg.

"Good fellow, I said I was not sapped by Miss Sagan, you must be unbalanced," Tom rubbed his forehead with gold stars. "So you were waiting for me here."

"You know, it's okay to give me the nickname of the Dark Wizard, but sooner or later you call me the real master of this name," Nelson spread his hand and said, "Besides, I'm not an Englishman."

"You mean he's here too? Sure enough, I always find that tower familiar," Tom lowered his voice, "Is he still there? Has he become someone?"

"I don't know this much, but he always likes to join in the fun, and it doesn't make sense to miss this one, and as the principal of Hogwarts who hosted the Triwizard Tournament, Dumbledore was a big show."

"That's it..." Tom nodded and stepped up the stairs. "I'm going first. Do you have any predictions or not to tell me?"

"Uh... be careful when you take a shower. Be careful when a female ghost comes out of the faucet to spy on you."

"Really? As you promise."

"..."

Nelson waved his hand feebly, left the stairwell, and stepped onto the corridor. As soon as he turned the corner, a dangling little flat head appeared in front of him like a ghost, and Nelson jumped.

"Mr. Wiltening," Sigmund asked playfully, playing with a box with "British Travel Souvenirs", "Are you betting on my students?"

"I am not, I don't." Nelson categorically rejected. "Professor Sigmund, Hogwarts prohibits gambling."

"Oh..." Sigmund nodded with a long note, stroking his beard, "but thank you for helping me find the ghost of the competition organizing committee. This really saves me a lot. Trouble, I didn't expect that the inner ghost was myself."

"That's what I guessed." Nelson scratched his head awkwardly, as if the air was completely filled with some kind of virtual substance called "embarrassment."

"That's good, otherwise I'm going to surrender, and I won't bother you, Mr. Wiltening."

Sigmund turned to his side and made way for Nelson. Nelson left here as if fleeing. He greeted the armor that had been moved to the principal’s office and gave out the "lemon biscuit" password. Rushed into Dumbledore's office.

Sigmund has been standing behind him watching him, with a playful smile on his face.

"Oh? Nelson?" Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, feeding on the beautiful Phoenix standing on the pen holder, raised his head, and said hello to Nelson, "It's so late, there must be something very important, right? ."

He waved his hand and a chair appeared under Nelson's ass. When Nelson looked up, he found himself sitting opposite Dumbledore. A cup of freshly brewed hot tea was steaming in front of him. .

"Professor Dumbledore," Nelson said, holding the portrait wrapped in greased paper, "you see Tom's basilisk."

"Don't worry, drink saliva first," Dumbledore waved his hand, thinking that Nelson was talking about this XXXXX-class magical animal. "I have learned from Tom. Since it is Tom's pet, as long as he can ensure the snake It’s not easy to hurt people, we have no reason to take it from him."

"No, Professor, I'm not talking about this." Nelson took a sip from his teacup, washed away the embarrassment of being caught by Sigmund, took a long breath, and looked at the row behind Dumbledore. The portraits of the principals in the platoon. Most of these portraits are empty. The remaining ones are either taking a nap or working on their own affairs. "Do you know where this basilisk came from?"

"I know, of course I know, Tom told me." Dumbledore fed Fox full, took off his glasses, put it to his hand, blinked dry eyes, and looked at Nelson. "I didn't expect the legend of the secret room to be unexpected. It’s true, and what I didn’t expect is that you two students who have not graduated can single-handedly solve the basilisk in the secret room...Unfortunately, due to disrepair, many of the furnishings in the secret room have been destroyed by rats. , Even those magic books are gnawed to tatters, otherwise Hogwarts will find a precious legacy~www.readwn.com~Yes, it's a pity," Nelson shook his expression sadly. Shaking his head, "I remember the first time I went to the secret room, the jewels on the wall and the chandelier above the head were weathered into sand. It would be nice if it could be properly protected back then."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded in approval, "Nelson, are you here for this? Then don't worry, I won't take Tom's things."

"It's actually for another thing," Nelson said in a low voice, lifting the oil-wrapped portrait on the table, "Slytherin's founder, Salazar Slytherin once left a portrait of himself. On the Basilisk, during the battle between the Basilisk and Alexander, this portrait was knocked down from the interlayer of scales, and it was finally able to be seen again."

Dumbledore's gaze slowly moved to the old greased paper on the table, his pupils contracted, shocked, and his voice suddenly raised, "Is this... a portrait of Slytherin?"

"Yes." Nelson nodded.

The portraits behind Dumbledore put down what they were doing, and straightened up. The sleeping old principals suddenly woke up. The old principals who went out also happened to return home, and they all stared at Dumbledore. The square greased paper in front of him was filled with incredible writing on his face.

A principal one hundred years after the establishment of the school said softly, "I remember the development potion was invented in the year I was born. There was obviously no such technology before..."

"I think," a sharp voice came, and Nelson raised his head. The talking old man had seen a portrait at Black's house in Grimmauld Place, Phineas, known as the "most unpopular principal ever" Black, "You can put Lord Slytherin next to me."

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