Hogwarts: I am Voldemort

"here."

Trelawney pointed to a text and read it.

"If you want to be a prophet, you'd better find the second vision first - this is actually the third eye, which can also be called the eye of the prophet. When you have the second vision, you can make real predictions."

After reading this paragraph, she looked at Voldemort with expectant eyes.

"You have the third eye, child, you have it."

Trelawney was as excited as if she had discovered a bottle of century-old wine. Her excitement even filled Voldemort with doubts.

"Professor, don't you also have a third eye?" Voldemort asked.

Trelawney was stunned, and Voldemort instantly noticed the timidity in her heart.

"Ahem...yes, ahem, of course I have second vision, I mean the third eye, of course, it is also called the eye of the prophet...well, yes, that's it."

Trelawney stood up and turned back to her breakfast.

She picked up the milk and looked out the window with dull eyes.

Voldemort was so stunned by her, why did he suddenly become silent?

"I don't have a third eye, child, I lied," Trelawney said suddenly.

She turned around again, leaving more of her back to Voldemort.

"People ask me all the time: 'Are you the great-great-granddaughter of the famous prophet Cassandra Trelawney?'

I say yes'.

They will ask: ‘Are you the first person in your family to have second sight since Cassandra? ’

I will proudly say: 'Yes, it is the inheritance of three generations. ’”

Trelawney would change the tone of her voice as she imitated dialogue.

Apparently, she had been through this situation many times, because she completely imitated the appearance of both people.

Voldemort smacked his lips, and he understood Trelawney's problem:

This fortune teller who had opened the celestial eye countless times did not realize that he had made a real prophecy.

"Hiss~~"

Trelawney shrugged her shoulders and looked like she was sniffling.

Then she turned her back to Voldemort and rubbed her eyes vigorously.

When she turned around again, there were still tears that had not been wiped away beside her red eyes.

This is a strong fortune teller, and she suffers from the fact that she has not been able to achieve the achievements of her ancestors.

"It's nothing, Neville, it's nothing."

She said in a rare deep voice, "Although I have neither inherited any talents from my ancestors nor made any decent predictions, Neville, I am trying to become a good fortune teller."

Voldemort could feel the sincerity in her eyes and the sincerity in her heart.

"You are indeed the greatest diviner of our time, Hybia Trelawney, I have always felt so."

Trelawney was stunned for a moment. She stared blankly at Voldemort for a while before suddenly speaking with a smile.

"Thank you, Neville, you remind me of an old friend. I think he would comfort me in the same way."

After she finished speaking, she came back to Voldemort and turned over a few more pages of [Cassandra's Prophet's Notes].

"My ancestors tried to collect different prophetic eyes. Those eyes are different. Only the top diviners can see the difference."

Voldemort nodded, that was just what he needed.

"You can see white and red, can't you?" she asked Voldemort.

"Yes, the white is more like light, and the red is like fire."

Trelawney nodded and flipped through the book quickly, almost glancing at every page.

There was no other sound in the room except the clattering of books.

Voldemort looked at Trelawney and found that she looked very...intelligent.

Completely different from the chaos and confusion of the past, she seemed to be a different person.

"What are you looking at?" Trelawney asked.

"Nothing, Professor, I just think you are beautiful." Voldemort said with a smile.

"Someone once said that."

Trelawney said happily, and then continued to read the book, "Neville, you have this extraordinary talent. I hope you can cherish it. If you are willing, I can give you extra lessons about divination every night."

Voldemort was silent. He would definitely not agree, but now was not the time to refuse.

"Actually, divination is not difficult to learn. In other words, this subject requires too much talent."

Trelawney stopped talking, and she flipped through the pages faster.

After a while, she finally stopped and frowned.

"Are you sure there is only white light and red flames?" she asked with confusion.

Voldemort nodded vigorously.

"Then my ancestors probably didn't record this third eye. It may be a very unique one, but we can explore it." Trelawney said with a smile.

This time it was Voldemort's turn to frown, he had no time to explore here.

"Can't we search again, Professor?" Voldemort asked, "I really want to know what all this means earlier."

Trelawney scratched her head and said helplessly: "With only these two pieces of information, I can't be sure of anything."

"Red eyes," Voldemort said suddenly, "I noticed once that when I could see those, the eyes would turn red."

"red?"

Trelawney looked at Voldemort in confusion, "Then I have to see it to confirm. Neville, when your eyes change color next time, come to me quickly."

Voldemort thought for a while and decided to give it a try.

"Wait a minute, Professor, I think maybe now..."

As he spoke, he tried to make the red eyes in his soul reflect into Neville's body.

But he didn't succeed immediately, as if something was blocking him.

"Bo."

After several efforts, there was a soft sound from the right eye and severe pain struck.

"ah."

Voldemort roared and covered his right eye with his hand, blood flowing from his eye.

Neville's eyes won't be damaged by me...

Just as he was thinking about it, Neville's soul suddenly began to resist, and a needle-like spiritual power pierced Voldemort's soul.

"Ah~~"

He roared louder and controlled his soul to fight back.

"Are you okay, Neville?" Trelawney was frightened and asked in a panic.

"I'm fine, Professor, please give me a moment."

Voldemort comforted her while suppressing Neville who wanted to regain control of his body.

This kid's mental power is very powerful, reminding Voldemort of the thorn made of mental power that he encountered when he fused his soul.

"Who are you?"

In the back of his mind, Neville roared and asked, "Why do you control my body?"

"Be patient, Neville. I will return your body to you soon."

Voldemort comforted him. He found it difficult to suppress the opponent in a short time. After all, this body belonged to Neville.

He wanted to convince the other person through words, and after he spoke, Neville was silent for a moment.

"Mentor?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yes, Neville, give me a moment, okay?" Voldemort asked.

"Director... I don't like this feeling. I can't control the feeling of my body. Can you leave?" Neville asked.

"Not yet, Neville." Voldemort said, "Wait a little longer, okay, it'll be quick."

Under Voldemort's comfort, Neville's resistance gradually disappeared.

He fell silent, seemingly acquiescing to Voldemort's words.