My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

　　 "Fox, how do you feel?"

　　 Hogwarts.

　　 Dumbledore sat behind the desk in the principal’s room, his half-moon eyes reflecting an unpredictable white light, he supported his chin with his crossed hands, hoping that this would relieve his fatigue.

As a high-ranking person who is busy but enough to integrate all his work, Dumbledore has proper arrangements for his life. In addition to some indulgent sweets, he spends fixed energy and time every day on affairs, magic, teaching and rest. .

Only this time, he didn't even know how long he had rested. Dumbledore tilted his head and looked at the old-fashioned phoenix on the wooden frame. He knew what would happen next, and that was the most important thing. Seconds later.

　　 He tentatively stretched out his hand and grabbed the long piece of parchment close to the bird's frame with the fastest speed. At this moment, the second hand on the wall clock behind him finally passed the long second—

　　 "Boom!"

　　 Scarlet red flames rose into the air, and the tongue exploded like flames splashing around. A spark slammed onto the desk, just where Dumbledore had just reached out.

"It's dangerous. You almost burned this report. I didn't bother to dig out the handwriting from such a large pile of ashes and put it together little by little." He held the parchment, and his expression was indifferent. "But I still want to deduct your nuts today, because you have indeed burned it once."

The baby bird in the flame let out a bewildering soft cry, and the pink, hairless, crumpled Fox staggered out of the ashes, with a small mouth closed and one mouth, and if you didn't give it food, you would have to The posture of chewing on the legs of the table.

"Alright alright."

Dumbledore fetched an acorn from the drawer of the desk and threw it to Fox. He groped with one hand on the tabletop that had just been burned by the flames of the Phoenix. There were still high temperature residues on the scorched tabletop, even on the edges of the burn marks. There were also looming sparks flickering, but he couldn't feel the heat when he glided across the palm of Mars. It seemed that the burn marks were some extraordinary fine textures, which were worthy of him to savor.

　　 "This is what you owe from tomorrow's nuts."

　　 Fox, who was pecking at the nut shell, stopped, raised his head dissatisfied, and called out loudly.

　　 "It's okay, you can borrow it tomorrow from the day after tomorrow."

　　 Dumbledore retracted his hand and blew the charcoal on it, ignoring the desk that had been burned beyond recognition, picked up the report, and continued to look at it with relish.

　　 "Summary of the Conference on Defining the Power of Advanced Magic Research of the Department of Mysteries"

　　 "Excuse me," the report was turned over to the bottom half. He suddenly raised his head and shouted at the fireplace, "Help me see if my students are in school?"

　　 "Who?" The voice of the armor came from the fireplace, "Where shall I look?"

　　 "Look at your good friend Nelson, you can move your muscles and bones as an activity."

"okay."

　　 The armor happily promised, and then there was the clicking sound of iron plates and the dull but hollow footsteps. The sound of footsteps drifted away, and Dumbledore continued to look down at the report.

　　 I don’t know how long it took. Dumbledore’s thoughts were interrupted by the footsteps of the armor returning. He raised his head, the flames in the fireplace trembled, and the sound of armor urns came in.

　　 "He is here, I saw him, playing with his friends at the Quidditch Stadium."

"Got it, thank you."

　　 The armor responded, and the flames in the fireplace quickly calmed down. Only Dumbledore reading the parchment and Fox pecking at acorns were left in the office.

　　 After a while, when Dumbledore finished reading the last paragraph, he sighed, put down the parchment, turned and looked at the wall clock behind him, shook his head, and muttered, "It looks like he is gone."

At the end of the report, the two departments were rejected—the Office of Life and Death Research and the Office of Time and History Research. The reasons were that “research is prohibited by the Wizarding Convention” and “I suggest that the gentleman who made the proposal return to Hogwarts for further study. Seven years".

　　The armor who had enough activity outside the door proudly held his head and waxed himself, while thinking happily: "Don't forget your good brother when you buy butter beer!"

　　...

"interesting."

　　 Newmontgard.

Grindelwald was sitting in the shadow of the top room of the Black Tower. He only had the back of his hand on the armrest placed outside. Everything in the shadow was unknown. He waved his hand and interrupted the report from the steps down to him. saint.

　　 "What's wrong? My lord? Do you have any doubts?"

　　 The saint could only see Grindelwald's hand, unable to guess his emotions, and couldn't help feeling a little nervous.

　　 "Did you not notice that you repeated a meaningless sentence twice?" Grindelwald asked softly, he

　　 "Hug...sorry, sir," the saint under the steps squatted and said, "I may...may be too nervous, so I didn't do it well, well, uh—"

"Organize the language well," Grindelwald thoughtfully helped him complete this sentence, and said softly, "I don't blame you for wasting my time. In fact, my time is not very valuable, but I I don’t want this kind of thing to happen to our relatives, our brothers and sisters again, if you are wasted a word by you in Numongard and the wizards of the whole world... No, a second of effort, you can think about it. , Can your life as short as mine be able to repay the debts you owe?"

　　 "Big...sir."

This saint from America reported to Grindelwald for the first time. The witch who was in charge of the report was dug a corner by a penguin and left her job inexplicably. He only knew that the dragon saw the head of Grindelwald. I am very concerned about the details, but I didn't expect to reach this level.

"Okay, don't have too much psychological pressure. When everyone makes mistakes, don't do this next time... I have read your report," Grindelwald said briskly in an elder tone, as if he had just learned a lesson. Saints, don’t waste time, people who are not like him, "You are doing very well, but you can do better... Don’t think that the families of those losers are worthless sands. The families that hold power and wealth in the United States determine this country. Their prosperity lies not in the people who hold these powers, but in the wealth they have behind them. Those people are...hehe, they are serving sentences in Nelson’s prison, but their wealth is still outside, waiting to be fed, wanting To create greater wealth, you have to satisfy the hunger and thirst, serve them, so that the vulgar lucky ones can gather together and reproduce the glory of their ambitious fathers who are suffering, and give them parasites. Some values ​​of life, do you understand?"

　　 "I see, sir," said the saint fanatically, "we are going to control—"

　　 "Shhh," Grindelwald interrupted him, "Don't say it so badly, we just gave them a choice. If they are unwilling to be lonely, I think glory will still be willing to take care of them."

His hand that was in the sight of the saint also retracted. After a long time, there was a "click" in the shadow, as if the sound of metal breaking, and Grindelwald's words came lazily, " Go ahead and do something good, we have never been bad people."

　　 The saint agreed, stood up, and walked backwards down the spiral staircase. When Grindelwald's door completely disappeared from view, he drew out his wand, turned it around in a circle, and quickly disappeared.

　　 "Oh... all previous efforts have been lost."

Grindelwald put down the things in his hand, the magic texts shining with lavender light are slowly dimming, these magic texts are engraved on a fingernail-sized metal plate, and they are connected to each other to form a standard circle. , But the brilliance of magic power was disconnected between the last magic text and the first one, as if the person who engraved it suddenly shook Parkinson's hand.

　　 Grindelwald sighed, grabbed his wand and waved it randomly. The room suddenly lit up. He didn't cover the light source to make himself look more like a villain, but to better observe these flashing patterns in the dark.

The piece of metal finally showed its true appearance. It was disassembled from a small ball with a few delicate pistons like an air pump. A small broken silver ball was placed next to the metal, numerous densely packed. The magic texts are embellished on it, some are later carved, and some are melted into metal with alchemy at the beginning of manufacture.

This is one of the important works of the magic factory created by Nelson. Any alchemy product that requires movement will be related to it. It may be the core or the parts at the connection point. At the beginning of the design, Nelson was out of efficiency and confidentiality. The reason is that he will try his best to split every creation from his hands into parts that can be used as common as possible, and then assemble them separately from the alchemy dolls assembled from the alchemy dolls, resulting in many wizards who use or even produce them only know the purpose. Without knowing the principle, it swept the magic market almost all over the world in a vague way.

Grindelwald also doesn’t always think about conquering the world. In his spare time, one of his hobbies is to study these things. These things are not too advanced in the application of alchemy and ancient magic. Part of it is concentrated on the structure of the product. The combination of some magic texts that almost all wizards are familiar with, through some strange structures, can finally achieve some effects that they are difficult to understand.

A lot of evidence shows that Nelson’s unique alchemy came from the alien witch who planted flowers in Ifamoni. There are many thoughtful wizards in Newmontgard who have thought about contacting her, but she shut herself in In the flower garden, it has not been exposed for a long time.

These exquisite structures fascinated Grindelwald. Not only did he want to relax his mind by studying them, but he also couldn't forget the iron Titans that could compete with powerful magical creatures without the control of wizards. Perhaps wizards like him were not afraid of them. , But for ordinary wizards, this kind of war weapon is simply an unshakable god—they are invulnerable, fearless, and powerful. If they can walk on the ground overwhelmingly, it will be the last piece of the puzzle of his great career. !

　　 "But why do you always want to hide it? Since it has brought progress, why should you resist it?"

Grindelwald smiled helplessly, and used his magic wand to crush the failed parts into nothingness. He originally only wanted to cultivate an heir like him-alone, full of hatred but calm enough, and with the vision of a prophet-but now It seems that there are more surprises than imagined.

　　 "Why do I pause when I make the last stroke, and even my perception of time becomes confused?"

Grindelwald rubbed his chin and unknowingly assumed the same posture as Dumbledore at this moment, "Is this your means to prevent cracking? It's a terrible magic. It seems that these years, I don’t Where you know, you have made a lot of progress."

He recalled everything that had just happened. He took the metal piece and used the magical power to drive the carving knife to draw the last stroke at the breakpoint between the last magic text and the first one. The purple path went through instantly, and the dazzling purple light came through His hand lit up, and the piece of metal swayed at a strict frequency on its own like the wings of a butterfly, but he breathed a long sigh of relief and was about to turn his attention to the reporting saint. He just heard a word. At that time, the sudden change occurred.

　　 The magic text in his hand was broken at the last stroke. It was a completely different brushstroke. The magic light gradually extinguished, and the saint under the stairs repeated the words he had just said.

　　 "Is it magic?"

Grindelwald touched his face in wonder, put the problem of cracking the parts behind him, stood up, wrapped his clothes tightly, walked quickly to the balcony, looking at the cloudless autumn colors and the lonely geese in the sky, he squeezed Lips jumped down.

　　 Youlan swallowed his falling figure in the air with some lavender fierce fire, and no one noticed that someone had left on the black tower.

　　...

　　 North America, UU reading www.uukanshu.com on the top of Graylock Mountain.

　　 In the nursery of Ifamoni, Nelson held his wand tightly and stared at the hourglass-like glass container in front of him.

A fascinating and beautiful purple flower is slowly falling from the top of the hourglass, and falls through the tightened bottleneck in the middle to the soil at the bottom. In the process, the flower quickly withers, and the gorgeous purple becomes a shriveled and empty gray. , An emerald green fruit grows from small to large at the bottom of the stamen, and finally breaks away from the petals and falls into the soil at the bottom of the hourglass.

Immediately afterwards, the hourglass flipped over, and the unrooted seed fell towards its original position. In this process, the process of flower decay was re-staged in the opposite steps, and the corrupted petals condensed from the void became gorgeous again. There is no reason to give people a sense of strangeness-it is not a reverse growth, but a process that is more difficult to understand.

　　 Suddenly the seed that passed through the bottleneck appeared abnormal. It did not shrink like it was placed upside down, but expanded, almost squeezing through the narrow bottleneck.

　　 Nelson's hairs stood upright, his instinctive fear made him raise his arm, the slender sword like a second hand appeared in his hand, a sword swung down, and the hourglass and its contents were instantly evaporated by the high temperature.

　　 "I have been stuck here for a long time, and it has been unstable during the restoration process. Do you have any ideas?"

　　 The tired voice of the witch came from behind him.

　　(Https://)

　　 Please remember the domain name of the book’s first publication:. Mobile version reading URL: