My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

The freak used the rusty knife in his hand to part the long hair covering his eyes on his forehead, revealing his face that hadn't been washed for a long time. Judging from his body shape, he should not be old, but he was dirty. The face under the messy long hair is covered with wrinkles, and the dirt is hidden in these gullies. The distance between the small and black eyes is a bit wide, and they look in different directions.

He was a little confused. The person in front of him seemed to be young, but he felt that he was not young. Soon he stopped thinking about it. His genius brain created by the marriage of several generations of close relatives could no longer support him to think about such a complicated issue. .

He opened his mouth wide, half of his teeth have fallen out, and the other stains are full of stains, which are probably about to fall off. He roared something, which sounded like an ancient dialect from some place. Nelson approached the dilapidated house, and the man pulled out from behind his waist. The wand, wielding the wand in one hand, wielding that knife in the other.

Nelson took a closer look and found that the knife was not rusted at all—on the contrary, it was sharper than most knives, and what looked like rust on it was actually dried blood.

"Hiss...hiss." Nelson came closer, and then he heard what he was saying. His voice was rough and indistinct as if he had something in his mouth. That leaky mouth with only half a tooth left is even more incomprehensible.

"Parseltongue?" Nelson realized that the person in front of him could not be treated with common sense. He spread his hands to indicate that he was not malicious, then took two steps back and said, "Are you Mr. Morfin Gaunt?"

"Hiss..." The man's hand wielding the knife was even stronger, and he didn't seem to understand what Nelson was saying.

Nelson was bored, trying to remember the Parseltongue Tom taught him last Christmas, "How do you say hello? Hiss~?"

"Hiss~hiss", he tried his best to pronounce it, but he didn't learn it at the time, how can he master it now-naturally, he insulted the man in front of him in Parseltongue, even though he didn't know what the meaning of this sentence was What.

"What?" The man dropped the knife, brushed his hair back with both hands, and stared at Nelson in shock. It turned out that he could speak English, but the English was as hoarse and ugly as his Parseltongue. "You are pure blood!"

"What?" Nelson was a little puzzled. For a moment, he thought that seeing bloodlines with the naked eye was the unique skill of the Gunter family. He said again, "Excuse me, are you Morfin—"

"Yes! I am! You, you can speak Parseltongue!" the man said excitedly, "You are pure blood!"

"Actually, that's all I can say." Nelson shook his head, looked at Morfin who seemed to be mentally disturbed, and said seriously, "Mr. Morfin, I'm here to visit you."

"What do I have to visit?" Morfin Gaunt's sanity seemed to come back. He bent down to pick up the knife on the ground, put his wand back into his waist with difficulty, turned and walked towards the house, and met Nelson in his imagination. Unlike the brutal dismounting, the Parseltongue and the identity of a pure-blood wizard made Morfin inexplicably agree. He walked in front, and Nelson followed him, silently inserting his hands into the collar of his coat.

"Do you like it?" The two walked to the door, and Morfin noticed that Nelson was looking at the live snake nailed to the wooden door. The cold weather is getting colder, and the blood from the wound is about to freeze, "I can give it to you later."

"Thanks, but no need." Nelson smiled stiffly and followed him into the room. The house was divided into three small rooms, the largest room they walked into looked like a combined kitchen and living room, with a door and a door frame next to it, and the room without the door frame was full of junk. There is a thick layer of dust on the floor, and the other room with a door should be Morfin's bedroom. The house is as dilapidated inside as it is outside. If a wooden shed is destroyed, then viewed from the inside, it is also the interior of a wooden shed that is about to collapse.

"Pure-blood wizard, are you from the Ministry of Magic?" Morfin squeezed himself into an armchair next to the fireplace and warmed himself by the fire, while holding the dirt from the wrinkles on his face, he held up the dirty glass next to him He took a sip of the unidentifiable liquid, "Is it because I expelled the Muggles who invaded my house?"

"No, it's not." Nelson found a relatively clean place on the sofa and sat down, with his hands still in his arms, he shook his head and explained his purpose, "I'm a cultural relic lover, you know, our kind People always find out things that other people don't know."

"I heard that Gunter is a great surname with a long history, so I inquired here to take a look." Nelson pretended to be casually looking at the surrounding environment, and he found that many things in the room that looked tattered were antiques , "I have to say that even in such a time of temporary decline, you still maintain the demeanor of a pure-blood nobleman. You really deserve to be a direct descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin."

"You know?" Morfin asked gruffly. His face and neck were already red. It seemed that the quilt contained wine, or maybe it was because the fireplace was too warm?

Feeling the chill in the room, Nelson wrapped his coat tightly around his body, dismissing the idea.

Morfin took another sip of wine and asked, "Pure Blood Wizard, what's your name?"

"Me? My name is Igor Karkaroff." Nelson looked at the furnishings in the room like a true cultural relic lover, was he admiring, "Seriously, Mr. Gunter, I really I want to be related to you, but the blood of the Gaunt family is too pure! This is something that our other pure-blood families cannot do. By the way, I heard that there should be another person named Marvolo in your family. Gaunt's elder, is he there?"

"Karkaroff? A pure blood from Germany?" Morfin seemed to be satisfied with Nelson's evaluation of his blood, changed a comfortable position in the armchair, and then took another sip from the glass, indifferently Said, "He died, died in Azkaban. And I don't have a sister anymore, the pure blood of our family will be cut off."

"Oh, this is really regrettable." Nelson's glib look made him feel a little sick, he sat up straight, and said seriously, "Mr. Gunter, I am here mainly for this matter matter."

"What?"

"I would like to help you restore the glory of your family and bloodline. In my opinion, you have everything, you only owe some money—and pomp." Is a wealthy pure-blood nobleman, "And I happen to have some spare cash, I am willing to help you."

Morfin opened his mouth, about to say something, when Nelson interrupted again.

"Mr. Gunter, I understand that as a noble pureblood like you, you are definitely not willing to accept charity from others." He moved his eyes to Morfin's hand holding the wine glass, and finally found the ring, "So you You only need to pay some useless handicrafts in exchange for the Golden Galleons you need the most."

Although Morfin lacks intellect, he is very keen. He immediately covered the hand that Nelson was staring at. Nelson thought, "It's a bad thing," but heard Morfin say loudly, "I can't give you this cup! It belongs to our family. The treasure, with which you can drink a steady stream of wine!"

"No wonder he's so poor and still drinks." Nelson thought to himself, and his hanging heart finally fell, and he said with a smile, "Don't worry, Mr. Gaunt, I just want some useless things, such as this snuff bottle, This flower pot, oh, and that painting over there! Oh, it's so beautiful. Give me these useless things, and you'll get a hundred Galleons."

"They're not worth that much." Morfin regained consciousness for a rare moment. He resisted the temptation and asked, "What exactly do you want?"

"No, Mr. Gunter, you are very wrong. For collectors, the collection does not care about the price, but the hobbies and the stories behind it. I think that in a family like Gunter, even an ordinary armchair is important. It has a long history."

"Yes, the chair I'm sitting on, my mother used to—"

"So, Mr. Gunter," Nelson said while the iron was hot, "if you don't think you want to take advantage of me, you might as well add a few more trinkets. How about this bottle opener? Oh no, you need it to open the bottle. Wine bottle... well, let me think about it."

Nelson shifted his gaze to Morfin's hand, and he licked his lips, "How about this ring? It just so happens that you have money, so you can exchange it for a gold one."

"This ring is a treasure of the Gaunt family..."

"Do you believe that too?" Nelson shook his head with regret, "How can a family like yours take an obsidian ring as a family heirloom? In any case, it should be inlaid with some precious stones, and it should be one of your relatives." Steal the real ring and sell it."

"Merope must have done it!" Morfin said viciously, handing the ring to Nelson's hand in a daze, and then turned around and started drinking madly at the utility room without a door.

"Damn out." A short red light flashed across the dilapidated house, Nelson withdrew his wand, went to Morfin who was lying on the ground and waved it again, "Forget everything!"

Then he picked up the ring and looked it up close to his eyes. A gleaming symbol was engraved on the smooth black gemstone: there was a vertical line in the circle, and the line ran through a triangle.

Satisfied, Nelson put away the ring, took out the money bag and counted out a hundred galleons, found a tattered cloth bag from the house, threw the money into it, and stuffed it in the pile of sundries in the utility room.

"I hope you have the habit of cleaning regularly." Nelson picked up the suitcase and cane, put on the soft felt hat, pushed open the door, and walked down the mountain whistling briskly.