My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

"Nobby, you know what? We're worried about you!"

The fat man held his stomach and walked quickly to Tom's side. At this moment, Tom was sitting on a stone pier wound that was left by something broken, holding a roster and flipping through it, not noticing the man's approach at all.

There was an undisguised joy in the fat man's tone, looking at the dilapidated streets, the Aurors who suffered heavy casualties, and the desolate ministers, the sweetest wine in the world seemed to flow between his lips and teeth.

I bought Shafiq's stool for him. After so many years, it was finally my turn to sit.

Auror Paul, who had walked away, saw that the Minister was suddenly surrounded by a group of well-dressed people, and suddenly thought of the speculation that Rich had mentioned to him before about someone in the Ministry of Magic deliberately delaying the news, and suddenly became nervous, behind his back. Grab the wand and approach the minister.

"Paul, what are you still doing?" Tom turned the roster to the next page, and said without looking up, "When you come back, go around the east street and get me a can of automatic refills. the Coke, the red one, and more ice."

Paul hesitated for a moment, and after being glared at by the fat man's entourage, he lowered his head and left quickly.

"Haha, Nobby, young people are young people." The fat on the fat man's stomach could show the texture of waves surging even through his shirt. He happily squatted beside Tom and glanced at the name on it. , After confirming that none of the people above were acquainted with him, he happily said, "If it were me, the old man, I'd be dead long ago... So it's good to be young."

Tom ignored him, took a pen from his breast pocket, and ticked off a few names on the booklet.

"Nobby, does it hurt?" the fat man greeted Tom like a child, "don't worry, we will give you an explanation, as long as you can honestly act under our protection in the future, don't have this kind of thing again. It's a matter of your own whim, you see, how many people you have dragged down by running around like this."

He wanted to reach out and touch Tom's head, as Justice Shafik had done to Richie, but unfortunately he wasn't Shafiq, and it wasn't Richie who was sitting here, Tom didn't move, but he His hand fluttered in the air, the fat man raised his palm to look suspiciously, muttered a few words, and stretched out his hand again.

"Eh? What's the situation?"

After so many times, his movements froze, and the look in Tom's eyes tore off the docile disguise and became icy cold.

"Are you kidding me?" The fat man raised his hand, moved his fingers lightly, and the man who followed him stepped forward and surrounded Tom. From the outside, he couldn't see the Minister of Magic sitting here. "You dare to play with me?"

"Excuse me for a little bit," Tom looked up from the roster, pointed to a witch behind the fat man, and twitched his fingers, "You're blocking my light."

The fat man narrowed his eyes and looked behind him murderously, only to see the loyal witch walking aside as if drunk, letting the sun shine on Tom's book again. He stretched out his hand angrily, thinking. He wanted to block Tom's sunlight, but the moment his fingers touched the light, he felt a severe pain as if being stung by a wasp, and the pain caused him to withdraw his hand immediately.

"You are crazy!"

He swung his rapidly swollen hands like crazy, stretched out his wand and pointed at Tom, a red light flashed on his face, the same contented smile on his face as the parents who have physically punished their children, but then, go first The witch who made her debut fell to the ground.

"Tsk."

Tom still ignored him, and continued to turn the roster one page. He saw a funny name on the roster and couldn't help but make a sound, but this soft tsk sounded like a mockery to the fat man, very harsh. .

"Ricky, don't be petty, we understand your dissatisfaction, but you know," the fat man changed his face and said sternly in Tom's ear, the spittle stars wet and cracked under the flames On the ground, "Since you came to power, the efficiency of the department has not been high. It's not that the Aurors don't want to save you, but the low enthusiasm that makes everyone lose their motivation to work hard."

"rustle…"

Tom seemed to be sitting in the study, putting the roster on his knees with Erlang's legs crossed, and sketching on it.

"Rich, your petty nature has reduced your already pitiful supporters, you have made these Muggles you care about see the cruelty of magic, and you have made Diagonal Lane a flat area," Fatty said. The man danced with all his strength and made the smallest voice, "Fuck the slanted side alley! What a shoddy pirated name!"

"Xianbianxiang is so ugly, come up with a new name..."

A somewhat abstract sketch appeared on the empty page of the roster, and Tom looked at a red-marked area in the center of the sketch with difficulty.

"Rich, do you think you can count without Justice Shafik? The Ministry of Magic needs to collect taxes from us every year for its operations, and I alone bear 13% of the annual expenses! "The fat man tried to reason with the minister who suddenly became incompetent. "We are parliamentarians, officials, taxpayers, and the last ones to enjoy your services. Do you think you came to power by yourself? You are just us." Elected! Without you, we could still find a new obedient minister on our own, we could even elect a Muggle minister, but without us, you wouldn't be able to support yourself!"

"Why is there always something calling?"

"Ricky, are you deaf? Hold your **** head up! Listen to me!"

"Who is this?"

Tom raised his head, pointed to the fat man chattering beside him, and asked Paul, who had just run back.

Paul stopped, looked at the man the minister pointed at, and then looked behind the man, and was stunned. The minister could remember the name of a nobody like himself, how could he even remember Mr. Malfoy's name? Can't live? Did he hit his head in the battle just now? He knelt down beside Tom, glanced secretly at the back of the minister's intact head, lowered his head, and whispered in Tom's ear, "This is—"

"You!" The fat man put on a domineering gesture, raised his chest and looked at Paul, "Tell this idiot who I am!"

"This is Mr. Malfoy," Paul lowered his head and whispered, "Director of the Commercial Division, the biggest entrepreneur since the Magic Factory appeared."

"Oh." Tom nodded, "I thought it was a patient from St. Mungo's, you know? This man may have passed his dragon plague syphilis to his family. His son seems to be named Abu. Laxus Malfoy? Babies have been treated with medicine for ten years since they were born, but now... tsk, this disease has an incubation period of up to sixty years. If it is not treated as soon as possible, the consequences will be very serious... Paul, You must keep yourself clean, this is a **** lesson."

If it is said that Tom's ignoring attitude before may be expressing his dissatisfaction with this attack, then this sentence is pointing at his nose and swearing. How could old Malfoy feel that Tom did not know him, how could he He felt that he really had the dragon plague syphilis, which, in his opinion, was a provocation and a declaration of war.

"You teach him a lesson!"

He waved his hand, and his dissatisfaction reached the extreme. If he hadn't been concerned, he might have been lynched. He had endured for so long, studying the magic factory model every day, pinching his nose and dealing with those disgusting Muggles every day, no To make a cucumber egg scold him.

But after waiting for a few seconds, the stage with only three actors was cold. Old Malfoy turned his head in horror and saw the entourage that was built into a wall. Come.

His neck rattled like clockwork, and he turned his head to look back. The stone pier where Nobby Ritchie was sitting had disappeared at some point, replaced by a few people who had just been standing behind him—they were neatly Yard together like a comfy sofa.

"Who proposed the Anti-Apparition Charm on Diagonal Lane?" Tom threw the roster into Paul's hands, took out a small silver ball and tapped it on the mound under his ass, and a nail clipper appeared in the In his hands, as he trimmed his nails, he asked, "Paul, I forgot."

"Yes...Mr. Malfoy," Paul said in a panic, grabbing the roster.

"Oh."

"Ricky, you damn—"

Old Malfoy, realizing that the calm minister could always hear his voice, raised his wand, ready to teach the **** minister a lesson himself.

"I warn you, don't act rashly!"

The blow came from the back of his head, and the old Malfoy fell down with his eyes full of gold stars. When his head hit the ground hard, he saw Paul picking up his wand, and he murmured, "How dare you—"

In the next second, Paul's foot had already stepped on his head. As a minister's confidant, how could he be afraid of such a stern pure-blooded "aristocrat"? He looked at Tom and asked respectfully, "Master Minister, I took this disrespectful person down."

"Dragon plague syphilis is a terrible disease," Tom clipped his nails and waved away the surrounding Aurors, "it can not only erode the health of the sick person, but also reduce his intelligence. This Malfoy is the Graduated from Gryffindor? Has he always been this brave?"

"Ri... Qi."

"Can you hear something screaming?" Tom asked curiously.

"I can't hear it, Mr. Minister." Paul replied, he understood that the big man under his feet might be one of the murderers who led them to be helpless, which made him betrayed to experience an unprecedented pleasure, "Maybe it's a dog barking! "

"Well," Tom nodded, "I just calculated that some families' wealth can keep the Ministry of Magic running for many years."

"Rich... Minister."

"I might be able to copy their homes. Anyway, for wizards, there is magic, and they can make a comeback at any time, right?"

"Minister..." Old Malfoy's wailing became weaker and weaker. He realized that Richie might be the most hidden of all his imaginary enemies, and there was a huge flaw in his judgment.

"What do you think of my promise to Numengard?" Tom put down his nail clippers, pulled out his ears, tilted his head and asked, "I think it's inconvenient to have some voice eunuchs in the middle, what do you think? ?"

"My lord, your thoughts must be correct."

"Is the number plate finished?"

"Master Minister, Auror... and the Auror you came, there are only seven people left. Fortunately, the reinforcements you called took over the battlefield at the end," Paul lowered his head, a little frustrated, "The prisoners were separated according to your instructions. Imprisoned, but Azkaban just broke out, we are worried..."

"Don't worry, I'll call someone later," Tom shrugged. "It's really not good. Today's hypotenuse is in chaos. It must be normal for everyone to die?"

"Lord Minister," Paul's eyes swept across Malfoy, their eyes met for a moment, and they quickly moved to the human wall, "These unscrupulous people also-"

"Minister..." Old Malfoy, who heard Paul's address, struggled for a moment, and finally repeated the address, "...Sir."

"Huh? Isn't that Mr. Malfoy?" Tom showed a satisfied smile, raised his eyebrows, and looked at Paul, "What are you stepping on him for? You blocked his mouth, and I said something was calling just now. !"

"Sorry, Mr. Minister."

Paul let go of old Malfoy, and with the Coke he found after a while, backed away.

Old Malfoy got up from the ground. He didn't stand up, but wriggled to Tom's feet. He suddenly realized how amazing the results of the Minister and these teams of Aurors were. There must be someone in the diagonal alley. Considering the strength, he hugged Tom's writing and said with tears: "Master Minister! Do you know? We are worried about you!"

"Who is it?" Tom asked coldly, kicking him away. "Don't talk nonsense."

"It's Borgin Burke!" Old Malfoy staggered back and said intermittently, "He sensed Nelson Wiltning's presence in Berlin and bewitched us to hold you back!"

"Oh, UU reading www.uukanshu.com so that the Ministry of Magic has already succeeded," Tom beckoned, "and Borgin Burke, does Borgin Burke know his surname is Wertling? Pull him Let's go."

Paul stepped forward, grabbed old Malfoy by the shoulders, and dragged him away.

"Wait!" After sliding for a while, old Malfoy realized that he was being dragged to the pile of corpses, he broke free from Paul's hand, and rushed back, "Master Minister, I said! I don't care anything. Say!"

…

"You're a smart man, Malfoy."

Tom looked at the old Malfoy who was rolling on the ground, immersed in the magical pain caused by the leak, and said with a smile, "You have betrayed someone so you can betray, do you know what that means?"

"You...you're not Nobby Rich!" Old Malfoy's precious robes were wet with sweat, and everyone lost two laps. The dehydrated and spasmed muscles took on a terrifying form. He fell into a huge fear, and The source of fear was the words he just said, those words that betrayed the contract, "Who are you? Are you Grindelwald?"

"It doesn't matter who I am, but you know, all you have left is Nobby Ritchie... oh no, Lord Minister, you can give allegiance, maybe you can try to find Dumbledore, betray him, beg him protect you."

"I…"

"You know your only option, Malfoy," Tom waved his wand. "It's just that allegiance comes at a price, and those friends who come close to me get preferential treatment, you understand?"

Old Malfoy slumped on the ground, nodding like garlic.

"Do you like tattoos? Malfoy, you know? People in ancient times liked to stamp their marks on prisoners of war after they captured them as a way to claim ownership of their slaves."

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