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 as tall as a person came into view. Under his arm was an oil painting wrapped in oil paper. It looked like a painting thief was caught at the entrance of the museum. with.

"What's the matter? Anyone's birthday?"

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

"No, no, this is for you!" Alphard pushed the dining car and sang the school song in the tune of a birthday song. The students around him accompanied him in harmony. Only then did Nelson see clearly the words written in strawberry jam on the cake. "Hogwarts must win", a smile appeared on his face unconsciously.

He received a grand welcome from his classmates. Everyone crowded around and surrounded him, as if he was the real warrior. Shui Lingling's big eyes confessed affectionately: "You look so handsome lying on the ground after being hit with a sap."

This is a cheerful girl with wheat-colored skin and unruly black hair, as if struck by lightning. People often regard her as a wizard from Africa because of her image, but she is A real British guy.

Nelson only felt a mouthful of old blood, and his eyes went dark, which was worse than being hit by a sap.

"Thank you, do you want to be as handsome as me? Dalian?" Nelson stared at the smiling girl in front of him with an unkind expression, and threatened, "I can help you, but I have a big sap, you have to bear with it .”

"Quack quack quack~" Alphard let out a duck-like laugh, and the rest room was as cheerful as a holiday. He noticed the portrait tightly wrapped in oiled paper in Nelson's hand and asked curiously, "What is this? German engineer ?"

"This is a portrait." Nelson shook his head, leaned the portrait against the back of the chair, and asked casually, "Where's Tom? Has he come back yet?"

"Not yet, we've been waiting for him," Walburga said excitedly, "His performance in the first game was awesome!"

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

"Okay, okay, let's eat the cake." Alphard was already hungry to wait for the two contestants, and he just picked up the knife to distribute the cake, "Do you want any fruit? I'll cut a piece for you. "

"No, Professor Dumbledore gave me some lemon biscuits," Nelson declined the midnight cake, "but if Tom comes back later—"

"It's okay, we have prepared a big meal for him," Alphard moved quickly, and all the Slytherins lined up to receive the cake from him, "Also, everyone has been waiting for a long time, so we must eat something Only when you have something, can you have the energy to celebrate, don’t you?”

After a while, everyone got his own piece of cake, and enjoyed the joy of victory together in this crowded lounge.

"By the way, what do you think the 'information about the second level' they said would be?" Alphard, who had finished sharing the cake, was also full, and sat in the corner of the lounge near the door with Nelson, who was also empty-handed." Could it be a riddle or something?"

"Generally speaking, in some famous literary works," Nelson recalled the Triwizard Tournament in his impression, and replied casually, "this 'information of the second level' will be a golden egg that can be opened, but it is easy to When you open it, you can only hear a noise similar to the scream 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 with a tired face holding a large golden egg. He just heard Nelson's nonsense, and his expression suddenly changed.

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

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

Tom didn't listen to his explanation, and ran out holding the egg on his own, without even closing the door.

"It seems that he went to find the prefect's bathroom." Alphard, who was ignored from the beginning to the end, shrugged and sighed, "Is this the strength of the prophet?"

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

"Telephone? What's that?" Alphard rubbed his chin, thinking about Nelson's random information, "Could it be that the referee team has already ended up participating in 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 outsiders, Professor Slughorn specially arranged for the school staff to replace the candles in the corridor with green flames. In the lounge, Nelson felt like he was robbing a grave.

Holding the golden egg, Tom had already walked a long distance, and was about to disappear around the corner. He was stopped by Nelson's cry, and he turned around. Under his miserable green face was a candle dyed by candles. Fluorescent green golden eggs.

Nelson took a step forward and ran towards him with the portrait in his hand. The robe on his body made a sound like a building collapsing.

"Do you want to go to the bathroom with me? Lord Dark Lord," Tom tucked the egg under his arm, took out a small notebook from his pocket, looked at it, and asked with a smile, "but you may have to wait a while, There are still two people taking a bath in front of me, and the appointment is until half past ten."

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

"Oh, well," Tom nodded, put the book back in his pocket, held up the golden egg and teased, "My lord Dark Lord, you guessed it completely right, I opened it during the day, and there were indeed banshee spikes coming out of it." The noise of howling is truly worthy of being a prophet! But it would be great if you could directly predict the event.”

The two walked side by side in the deserted castle. After the carnival, even the naughtiest students didn't bother to go out at night.

"This is the question that Professor Sigmund missed for me." Nelson made up nonsense without blushing, probably 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 'Dark Lord' anymore, that's a joke, it doesn't matter."

"How could it be? I took it seriously, Lord Dark Lord," Tom raised his eyebrows, and said cheerfully, "After all, you really knocked down that Kant in a few strokes, and you are willing to take the bet, you know."

"But I didn't bet you..."

"Is there any Englishman who doesn't like to gamble?" Tom rubbed Nelson's hair with a smile, leaned close to his face, and said every word, "My lord Dark Lord."

Nelson's heart swayed, and he hit Tom on the forehead with a head hammer. Tom almost sat on the ground with the golden egg in his arms. Fortunately, he grabbed the stair railing and did not break the golden egg.

"Good guy, let me just say that you must be out of balance if I didn't get sapped by Miss Sagan." Tom rubbed his forehead with staring eyes, "So you're waiting for me here."

"You know, it's nothing to give me the nickname of a dark wizard, but sooner or later you call me the real owner of this name," Nelson said, spreading his hands, "Besides, I'm not British."

"You mean he's coming too? Sure enough, that tower always looks familiar to me," Tom lowered his voice. "Is he still there? Has he changed into someone?"

"I don't know much about this, but he always likes to join in the fun, so there is no reason to miss this time, and as the principal of Hogwarts who hosts the Triwizard Tournament, Dumbledore has gained a lot of limelight."

"I see..." Tom nodded and stepped up the stairs, "I'll go first, do you have any other prophecies to tell me?"

"Uh...be careful when you take a shower, be careful that there is a female ghost coming out of the faucet to spy on you."

"Really? Thank you for your good words."

"..."

Nelson waved his hands weakly, left the stairwell, and stepped onto the corridor. Just as he turned the corner, a sloppy crew cut appeared in front of him like a ghost, which startled Nelson.

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

"I'm not, I don't." Nelson vetoed righteously, "Professor Sigmund, Hogwarts prohibits gambling."

"Oh..." Sigmund nodded in a long voice, stroking his beard, "Thank you, though, for helping me find the ghost of the organizing committee of the competition, which really saved me a lot of trouble. Trouble, I checked and checked, but I didn't expect that the ghost was actually myself."

"That's my guess." Nelson scratched his head in embarrassment, the air seemed to be completely filled with some kind of virtual substance called "embarrassment".

"That's all right, or I'll surrender myself, and I won't bother you, Mr. Wertling."

Sigmund turned sideways to make way for Nelson. Nelson left here as if fleeing. He hastily greeted the armor that had been moved to the door of the principal's office, and announced the password of "lemon biscuit". 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 the desk, petting the beautiful phoenix standing on the pen holder, raised his head, and greeted Nelson, "It's so late, there must be something very important .”

He waved his hand, and a chair appeared under Nelson's buttocks. When Nelson raised his head, he found that he was already sitting opposite Dumbledore, and a cup of freshly brewed hot tea was steaming and placed in front of him. .

"Professor Dumbledore," Nelson said while holding the portrait wrapped in oiled paper, "Have you seen Tom's basilisk?"

"Don't worry, drink some water first," Dumbledore waved his hand, thinking that Nelson was talking about this XXXXX magical animal, "I've already asked Tom about the situation, since it is Tom's pet, as long as he can make sure that the snake Blame does not hurt easily, and we have no reason to take it from his hands."

"No, professor, that's not what I'm talking about," Nelson took a sip from his teacup, and washed away the embarrassment of being caught by Sigmund. He breathed a long sigh of relief, and looked at the row behind Dumbledore. There are a row of portraits of the headmaster, more than half of these portraits are empty, and the rest are either taking a nap or busy with their own affairs, "Do you know where this basilisk came from?"

"I know, of course I know, Tom told me." Dumbledore fed Fawkes, took off his glasses, put it in his hand, blinked his dry eyes, and looked at Nelson, "I didn't expect the legend about the Chamber of Secrets to be It's true, and what I didn't expect was that you two students who haven't graduated can single-handedly solve the basilisk in the secret room... Unfortunately, due to years of disrepair, many of the furnishings in the secret room were destroyed by rats , even those magic books have been chewed to pieces, otherwise Hogwarts would have found a precious legacy."

"Yes, it's such a pity," Nelson shook his head sadly, "I remember the first time I went to the secret room, the gems on the wall and the chandelier above my head were all weathered into sand. Proper protection is enough."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded approvingly, "Nelson, is that why you came here? Then please rest assured, I will not take away Tom's things."

"It's actually for another thing," Nelson said in a low voice as he carried the oiled paper-wrapped portrait to the table, "Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Slytherin, once left a portrait of himself in the On the basilisk, during the battle between the basilisk and Alexander, the portrait was knocked out of the interlayer of scales, and was finally seen again."

Dumbledore's eyes slowly moved to the old oil paper on the table, his pupils constricted, full of shock, and his voice suddenly raised, "Could this be... a portrait of Slytherin?"

"Yes." Nelson nodded.

The portraits behind Dumbledore put down what they were doing and straightened their backs one after another. The sleeping old headmasters suddenly woke up, and the old headmasters who had gone out just returned home. They stared at Dumbledore in unison. On the square oil paper in front of him, his face was full of disbelief.

One hundred years after the school's founding, the headmaster said softly, "I remember that the development potion was invented in the year I was born. There was no such technology before..."

"I think," came a shrill voice, and Nelson looked up, talking to an old man who had seen a portrait of Phineas at the Blake house in Grimmauld Place, known as "the most unpopular headmaster ever" Black, "You can put Lord Slytherin next to me."