My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

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Dear Miss Williams:

How are you doing?

Recently, I was on a business trip in France, and I had some free time to visit the ancient capital of Paris with my colleagues. I passed by the door of Notre-Dame Church, and for some reason, I suddenly remembered your smiling face.

I remember that you should have studied in the nuns' school of this church. When you were walking on the road, you could sometimes see young girls carrying small beaded bags coming in and out of the church in groups. As if walking out of Monet's "Women in the Garden", those Venus's pitiful young faces dazzled my colleagues. Fortunately, I was prepared, after all, in After seeing Miss Bella, there is nothing beautiful in the world that can move your heart. I believe that even when you are studying in a girls' school, you must be the most beautiful scenery on the streets of Paris.

Paris is a beautiful city. I have been here many times, and I am very familiar with the scenery and customs here. I am so familiar that I almost lost interest in it. But after meeting you, I actually rekindled my curiosity about it. What kind of a city can give birth to people like you?

I picked out a new silk scarf for you, and I will send it to you with the letter, haha, recalling the moment we met that day, I was walking down the street with a glass bottle, and you ran out of the bank waving stubs, Just like those little fairies flapping their wings in fairy tales, even though I only took a sip of that delicious dark beer, the taste is almost tasteless to me who have seen you, I believe that is what fate gave me A gift that allows me to meet such a beautiful girl who seems to be destined in a foreign country.

In fact, I was not what I was when I was panicked that day. My colleagues and I got separated, and accidentally walked into a trail that I had never set foot in. I didn’t ask for directions. It’s just you, Miss Bella. I wet your clothes, but you still helped me guide the direction regardless of the past, and even willing to accompany me to tour this city that you have set foot on countless times in detail.

I believe that you have been walking those roads every day, and you are tired of walking, just like I am so resistant to business trips, but you must also be able to see different scenery during the tour with me, just like I did from that day start

I swear, that was the happiest and most relaxing day in my life, so much so that the next day after I found my colleagues, when they read the reports I wrote, they all asked me if I was in love.

I didn't know if I fell in love, and when I got home, I thought about it for a long time, and even blurted out "Do you love me?" during an argument with the editor (I have to say, the scene was extremely embarrassing, but In order to ease the embarrassment, he actually helped me pass the sensitive report, which is really a blessing in misfortune).

Miss Bella, to be honest, before my last business trip to France, I never thought of falling in love with someone, walking with her through busy streets, crowded crowds, vast fields or narrow alleys, and She spends time shopping for groceries after get off work together, and in the mundane of jokes in the fumes, let her be named by my surname and become a crutch for half of my body. Will I hold her hand or put my arm around her shoulder? Shall I call her darling or ma'am? Will I kiss her or hug her?

These sudden thoughts made me intoxicated and frightened. I thought I was a hard-hearted person, and my empty heart needed a greater cause to fill it. I even gave up my favorite poetry and had a big quarrel with my respected teacher. One, I abandoned my education at Heisenberg University, bid farewell to Trier, where I was born and raised, and went to one of the most dilapidated newspaper offices in Berlin to become a low-level reporter. Conflict, disease, death, and so on, things they don't want to see are recorded on a penny scrap of paper, and I leave everything behind, because in my heart, there is nothing precious in the world except for the career floating in the sky above my hometown. something - at least that's what I thought until I met you.

When I met you on the streets of Paris that day, I seemed to see another me.

Another me who was born as a woman, lives in a peaceful, prosperous, and free country, is well-educated, sensible, and beautiful, no matter what I tell you, you can always express yourself Showing a different side to those mediocre people - all this is very new and addictive to me, an experience that I can't get even when I interview people in high positions.

It's like magic. Forgive me for using such an imprecise vocabulary, you are like the witch in the story, staring at everyone in the world with a bird's-eye view, so that during that time, as long as I close my eyes, I can remember that you said to me those words.

I always thought that my life should be as free as poetry, but I think good poetry has to be somewhat limited, no? Just like poets have to obey the law and not just talk about it.

Such as rhyme, such as structure, such as antithesis, such as parallelism, such as gradual emotion, such as appropriate imagery, such as profound situation - it needs at least branching, if a madman's nonsense and scribbles can be called Poetry, so what is the difference between a poet and a madman?

I think love, for me, may be the benchmark for distinguishing my pen from the fingers of a madman, just like a compass owned by a person living in the city. Maybe he can distinguish the north, south, east, and west by the arrangement of buildings and streets, but But it can guide people in a certain direction when they are in doubt or lost, at least they can be clear that someone is waiting for him at home.

At the moment I am waiting in the hotel for my colleagues to return to Germany together. I am really too anxious to write this sentence on the back of the list. The handwriting is distorted and incoherent. I wanted to send you the silk scarf Forget it, but it’s really hard to hold back the longing in my heart. I don’t want this interesting encounter to end hastily. I think our story has a longer future.

At the foot of the Church of Our Lady, the tall tower hangs high above my head. This is where the legendary romantic story took place. I dare not claim to be the infatuated Quasimodo, maybe I am more like the cowardly Gringoire, the wandering poet, met a beautiful gypsy girl who was willing to lend a helping hand to me in the loneliness of being alone—I grew up in a repressed country, and wandered in the bright Paris and went to the wrong place Region, that feeling of loneliness wraps me, the gray hair is out of place on the streets of Paris, isn’t it just the confused person who broke into the kingdom of beggars?

Miss Bella, I sincerely pray for the privilege of receiving your reply.

sincerely yours,

Jonas Nicklaus

………………

"So did you finally write back to Jonas?"

Nelson asked as he helped his aunt load the packed luggage into the ferry company's carriage, which might be the last time they would see each other in the house he had lived in for ten years.

The rose-coloured brick house, with geraniums in the windows and a few fewer pigeons flying by, will be deserted from today.

"Go back, if I had known that he would take chicken feathers as arrows, I would definitely not have gone back to him," Bella giggled, unable to see the slightest resentment, "I have some regrets, Gnar, you know I was Did you write anything in the letter?"

"Justified words and angered Jonas' flirtatious show of love?"

Nelson raised his eyebrows, and picked out the gold-rimmed glasses left by Jonas from the wooden box. The cracks on the lenses were like spider webs, gluing the love letters in Bella's mouth together to form a The story of their encounter.

"What's that?" Bella narrowed her eyes and looked at the glasses in Nelson's hand, her expression became depressed again, "Why did I put it in, let's leave it on the desk, if Jonas comes back later, it won't happen I can't even see the road."

Nelson put his glasses in his pocket and turned away, pretending not to see his aunt wiping her tears.

After a while, when Nelson started to carry the second suitcase, Bella's voice came slowly, "I just wrote one sentence: Notre Dame Church does not have a girls' school."

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Nelson's fingers suddenly lost their strength because of the huge laugh, and the thick manuscript in his hand hit the ground heavily. He laughed up to the sky, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes, "Auntie, if you want me to say, you should be in his told that joke at his funeral."

"That's what I planned too..." Bella also smiled, "But that old priest is too nagging, I can't bear it anymore."

"It's hard not to be supportive."

Nelson squeezed the frame of the glasses, raised it to his eyes, squinted one eye and looked at it, aiming at the sun in the sky covered by dark clouds like a scope.

"Snapped!"

He was like a kid who picked up a wooden stick and started to swing it around, pretending that he was holding a sniper rifle that could shoot the sun.

"Crazy man, you are always so oily! Who would write such a letter to a girl who meets for the first time? Don't say anything about Quasimodo Gringoire, I think you are that philandering, annoying, Self-righteous Phoebes!"

Bellatrix Nicklaus, dressed in a long black dress, seemed to have not yet adapted to her status as a widow. Sitting on a rocking chair, her eyes gradually blurred, and she wore a scarf around her wrist that had been washed many times and was gone. The color of the scarf, but it has been stitched to maintain its original shape, and a stack of yellowed old letterheads is neatly stacked in her arms. The breeze brushes her cheeks, and the long hair at the temples is vigorously lifted by the wind, revealing her hiding place. Wisps of silver in black.

A few days, to her, seemed to have spent many years in her life.

"I don't know if Notre Dame Church has a girls' school, but even if there is, I can't possibly have studied there. I'm an accountant, and nuns' schools don't teach such things."

Bella squinted her eyes, leaning on the back of the chair and talking to herself, a smile like meeting an old friend bloomed on her face, wrinkles extended from the corners of her eyes, and there was a light eclipse in a pair of dark eyes surrounded by aging What appeared to be a silhouette of a grinning man.

"You are so happy, because you are a foreigner, you dragged me around Paris for a whole day! But I was deducted wages for three full days!" Bella threw the letter back into her arms angrily, and Quickly straightened up, smoothed out some crumpled letter paper, carefully stuffed it under the stack of letter paper, and remembered with a smile on the corner of her mouth, "Later Elizabeth came home from vacation and asked me, 'Sister, what are you doing? Did you know your brother-in-law?', guess how I answered her?"

Bella stared at the stack of letters and said angrily and with a smile, "I told her that you were a poet who was hiding from the German secret police. I helped you in your escape. She almost believed it. I told her This is not lying to a child, I can't tell her directly, Jonas ran down the street with beer and poured me all over, right?"

"But I'm not lying to her. Didn't you say that the glass of dark beer was shipped from Germany? It's not too much to say that it is chasing you!" She recalled half complaining and half sweetly, "Do you remember I can't get up, but I still remember it clearly... That cup of dark beer, it smells of sweet biscuits, oak barrels, pungent hops, and the bloody blood that cracked my fingers when I washed the clothes all night taste."

Her pupils condensed again, looking at Nelson who was aside.

"Why do you have to deduct three days' wages for one day of absenteeism?" Nelson expressed his confusion.

"Because that bank was opened by my father, that is, your grandfather, it was only deducted for one day, but after hearing that I went shopping with a foreigner, he deducted it for two more days." Bella was told by herself The memory made me laugh, and said cheerfully, "How can there be people running down the street with beer in the world?"

"But these 'secret police' were arrested... When Jonas came for the second time, he could no longer drink the dark beer from his hometown."

Bella's tone became desolate again, and the scene of the second encounter with Jonas slowly appeared in front of her eyes. Compared with the young reporter who was running wildly in the street with a beer, Jonas at this time was in despair. There are so many that I don't even have the strength to run.

………………

"I think you need your hometown more than your hometown needs you."

The young Bella was sitting on the long stone steps of Notre Dame Church. Her long, smooth hair was tied into a fashionable bun and hung loosely behind her neck. She was wearing a man's shirt and suit, with a clean face. , with a stack of stapled papers and a newspaper-wrapped sandwich beside him.

She looked at the pedestrians coming and going on the road, and pressed Jonas's hand that was reaching out to her side: "You can't find the taste of your hometown from this bottle of horse urine, Jonas, you have lost weight and haggard a lot , you should be acclimatized."

"Ha ha!"

Jonas bypassed Bella's obstruction, and grabbed the dark brown glass bottle beside him. He was wearing a pair of old khaki pants that were covered with dust and the color could not be seen clearly. The emerald green shirt also looked cheap because of improper washing. A vest often worn by journalists was casually put on the shirt, and his beloved camera was casually thrown on the steps at his feet. His eye sockets became sunken due to his thinness, and his lonely eyes were hidden behind the reflection of the glasses. , "This poor-quality stout is already the most 'home' thing I can find, you know Bella, there is nothing left to export from Germany, and you probably don't know what that means."

bella looking at

"Then what about your work?" She shook her head helplessly, and patted the dust on Jonas's elbow, "I thought you were on a business trip this time..."

"They don't need me anymore. Readers smashed the door of our newspaper. My editor-in-chief refused to publish the report I wrote. He asked his connections to help me get a permit to live abroad. Some people have already been eyeing me... ...I can't go back."

Jonas lowered his head, the fine gray hair on his forehead covered his eyes, and he could only see his unshaven chin trembling imperceptibly. Squeezing the poor, but the poor can only vent their hatred to their neighbors under the puppet show of fools. My motherland is like a balloon filled with sulfur, which is constantly expanding. The pressure is passed on to the outside world in some drastic way... The atmosphere of depression and terror is hanging over Germany, but there is nothing I can do, Bella."

"You should trust the judgment of the people, Jonas." Bella put her hands on her knees, and patted the back of Jonas's trembling hand pitifully, "Even an accountant like me who knows nothing about current affairs knows our The world needs more peace, factories need to open, soldiers need vacations, children need to go to school, adults need to work, old people need to be healthy, and families need to be together.”

"If that's the case," Jonas murmured, covering his face with his hands, burying his head deep in the crook of his legs, "Socrates wouldn't be dead."

"It's going to be okay," Bella didn't know how to comfort him, just patted his trembling back lightly, and repeated, "It's going to be okay, Jonas."

"How long will it take to get better..."

No one gave an answer to this long sigh that looked up to the sky until the day he fell down.

………………

"In general, he made some remarks in the newspaper that the authorities didn't like to hear," Bella said softly, "so that they wanted to get rid of him. With the help of friends, he escaped to Paris and obtained a A legal identity and visa."

"So what you said before really came true?" Nelson raised his eyebrows, "Is it the part about the secret police?"

"Yes, my sister, your mother told me that I have some gift for being a prophet."

"I think so, after all, you have said since I was a child that I will become handsome when I grow up."

"You are quite like Jonas in this regard," Bella rolled her eyes. "Indeed, when people become shameless, the standards of beauty and ugliness can be set at will."

"Mirror, mirror, who is the most beautiful woman in the world?" Nelson first imitated a witch with a low voice, and then imitated the voice of a goblin, "Oh! It's Bella!"

"Haha, what a good boy." Bella stroked Nelson's hair and shook her head, "Your version of Snow White is not black, is it?"

"After the copyright of the descendants of the Brothers Grimm expires, I will make an adaptation like this."

"That will definitely not be recognized."

"Who knows?"

"Just like Jonas." Bella said suddenly, and Nelson felt his scalp tingle. Although he kept talking about the topic in various strange places, Bella always turned it back to the dead husband. "When he first settled in Paris, the people around him didn't welcome him very much, including your grandfather. Except for Elizabeth, who met once when he came home from vacation, and Mergan, who came to Paris with her to play, the whole city was Repel him, but he doesn't care."

"Do you repel him?"

"I?"

"I think that's enough for Jonas."

"Huh? Nel," Bella froze, squeezed Nelson's face vigorously, poked his forehead with her index finger, and said with feigned anger, "You're a big kid, and you're already a grown-up."

………………

"You're so weird. You're still running to France at this time. Have you seen the eyes of those people on the street who want to throw stones at you?"

"You're so weird," Jonas said affectionately, tossing her braids, "You're still willing to stay with me."

The two of them were still sitting on the steps of the Notre Dame Church just like last time, and Jonas even had the leisure to raise his hand to greet every passerby who stared at him.

The street was depressed, quite different from the bustling and restless when he came to Paris last time.

"Maybe I'm just a weirdo." Bella hugged her knees and breathed into her palms, the time has entered winter, and the air has inevitably turned colder, "I'm just a little angry, obviously you are the first to say that Germany is going to war of."

"You can't say that, Bella. Many people of insight have made similar judgments. I just relayed their words in the newspaper." Jonas shrugged his shoulders with a helpless expression, "I'm Not Hans Müller, you can't force everyone to know me."

"Uh... may I interrupt, who is Hans Müller?"

"There are about 10,000 Hans Müllers in Germany," Jonas said with a smile. "Even if he can't do it, who can guarantee that everyone knows him?"

"Bella!"

A shout came from a distant street corner, and Bella's colleague at the bank ran over grumblingly, and stopped in front of Bella.

"I've already deducted my wages," Bella said with a grim expression, "I don't want today's wages either."

"It's not...it's not about the money," the colleague said intermittently, "Mr. Williams asked you...to go back, it's urgent!"

"I hope you didn't lie to me," Bella stood up on the steps, "otherwise I'll just randomly add a few numbers to your ledger."

After finishing speaking, she and Jonas nodded their goodbyes and prepared to go home.

"He invited Mr. Nicklaus, too."

"Me?" Jonas pointed at himself, opened his mouth wide, and said to Bella in surprise, "Is your father finally unable to suppress his anger and is about to hit me with his shotgun?"

"If you're still sitting there, I'll have to shoot you with a shotgun instead."

………………

"Bella, what day is it today?"

In the office behind the bank, Mr. Williams, the grandfather Nelson had never met, was smoking a cigar, his whole face collapsed, and there was no emotion in his eyes, just like the famous Churchill's picture in the future. In the photo, a soft felt hat is casually placed at hand, the cigar is not lit, and Mr. Williams is spinning the air like a pen.

"January 7, what's the matter?" Bella said casually, "But I only have 22 days left to deduct this month."

"January 7, 1916..."

Mr. Williams ignored the mockery in his daughter's tone. He repeated the date, stretched his hand under the desk, and squeezed out the smallest voice with great effort, "Let that German come in."

Jonas, who was called by Bella, opened the door and walked into the office. As soon as he took a step, the sound of the bolt being pulled rang in his ears, and a pair of black barrels rushed straight to his forehead with the pungent smell of saltpeter. .

"Mr. Williams," he slowly raised his hands and took a step back, "I'm really not a spy."

"I'll ask you a question, German."

"You can ask," Jonas said, maintaining the posture of raising his hand, "but I still have to repeat—"

"I know that you are not a spy, German, and I have seen what you have done. Although you are not worthy of my daughter, at least you have avoided the high probability of birthing bad people among your compatriots," With steady hands, Mr. Williams said in a flat tone, "If your wife died under the enemy's attack on civilians, as a man, what would you do?"

Jonas pondered for a moment, raised his head, and said, "I might choose to beat my enemies on the battlefield."

"What if you don't know who the enemy is?"

"This kind of attack on civilians is generally indiscriminate, you know."

"Very good," Mr. Williams raised the muzzle of the gun and quickly pressed the trigger. The huge explosion sound in the barrel of the shotgun filled the ears of Jonas and Bella in an instant, and Jonas felt dizzy. It wasn't until Mr. Williams passed by him that he realized, "I thought you were a coward who only knew peace like those articles you wrote in the newspaper."

"The price of peace is not to let kind people be beaten all the time." Jonas covered his ears and shouted at a volume he couldn't control. "It is a just ending to punish the perpetrators."

"Well," Mr. Williams patted Jonas on the shoulder and passed him, "help me take care of my daughter, German."

"What?"

Jonas looked at the shotgun in the hands of Mr. Williams. The anxiety of Bella's colleagues and the strange questions Mr. Williams asked him echoed in his mind that was smashed by the sonic boom. He quickly realized that Bella It is very likely that La’s mother died in the German army’s attack on civilians, as Mr. Williams said. He quickly turned around, ignored the shotgun in Mr. Williams’ hand, and grabbed his arm forcefully. .

"That's what you chose, German."

Mr. Williams glared at him viciously, and the bloodshot pupils in the corners of his eyes grew wildly like pupils. He took one last look at his dull daughter, and resolutely walked towards the old man waiting outside the bank.

"I love you, Bella."

...

"He stayed on the Somme and went to spend the same year with his mother."

Bella looked at the soft felt hat in Nelson's hand with complicated eyes, stood up while leaning on the armrest, took the last small box from Nelson's hand, and neatly stacked the stack of letterheads in it.

"Your grandfather's hat was sent back soon, and it was left to Jonas, and finally to you," Bella said, "I didn't agree to his pursuit at that time, but my father had entrusted me If it’s given to him, that’s the only way to go, but to be honest, it’s not bad.”

"Jonas's career has also improved at this time, but for me, he still moved away from that place that would only bring people pain."

"After leaving the mainland, his career has improved, but everything about me is gone...Fortunately, I have him."

"I'm just a useless accountant, what wizards call a Muggle," Bella said, with tears in her eyes, putting her arms around Nelson's neck, "I can't teach you anything, but I want to tell you, never, ever , never be the one left behind."

"aunt……"

Nelson hugged his thin aunt, who was so thin that a gust of wind could blow her away.

"I'm selfish, Nel, I hope you do what you want to do as Jonas thinks, and be a carefree self," Bella clutched Nelson's collar tightly, crying, "but I want you to be like him more, it's just...it's just that when I dreamed about him last night, he scolded me severely."

"He suggested that I send you to Notre Dame Church to study in a girls' school," Bella smiled, and hugged Nelson's arm more tightly, "He still remembers my reply."

"Jingle Bell……"

After the carriage was loaded, the groom was urging Bella to get on the carriage quickly.

"Don't leave any regrets for yourself, Gnar."

The Fanwai family letter is different from the Twin Towers. It is not an if line, but is used to fill in some stories or settings that have already happened.

I'm tired of writing.