My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

"Fox, do you feel... how?"

Hogwarts.

Dumbledore sat upright behind the desk in the principal's office, his half-moon eyes reflecting an unfathomable white light, and he rested his chin with his crossed hands, hoping that this would relieve his fatigue.

As a high-ranking person who is busy but able to integrate all the work, Dumbledore has a proper arrangement for his life. Except for some indulgent sweets, he spends a fixed amount of energy and time on affairs, magic, teaching and rest every day .

Only this time, he didn't know how long he had rested. Dumbledore tilted his head and looked at the old phoenix on the wooden stand beside him. He knew what would happen next, and at that crucial moment seconds later.

He tentatively stretched out his hand, and grabbed the long piece of parchment near the bird stand as quickly as possible. At this time, the second hand on the wall clock behind him finally passed this long second——

"boom!"

Crimson scorching flames soared into the air, and the flames splashed around like an explosion. A streak of sparks slammed onto the desk, right where Dumbledore just reached out his hand.

"How dangerous, you almost burned this report, I'm too lazy to dig out the writing from such a huge pile of ashes and piece it together bit by bit." Holding the parchment, he didn't know what was hidden under his indifferent expression "However, I still have to deduct your nuts for today, because you have indeed burned once."

The young bird in the flames uttered a bewildered chirp, and the pink, featherless, wrinkled Fox wobbled out of the ashes, opening and closing a small beak, and would have to eat if he didn't give it something to eat. The posture of gnawing a table leg.

"Alright alright."

Dumbledore took out an acorn from the desk drawer and threw it to Fawkes. He groped with one hand on the tabletop that had just been scorched by the flames of the phoenix. There are also faint sparks flickering, but he doesn't seem to feel the heat when he slides the palm of Mars, it seems that those burn marks are some amazing and exquisite textures, which are worth savoring carefully.

"That's owed from your nuts for tomorrow."

Fox, who was pecking at the husk, stopped, raised his head in dissatisfaction, and shouted loudly.

"It's okay, you can borrow it from the day after tomorrow."

Dumbledore withdrew his hand, blew on the charcoal on it, ignored the desk that had been burned beyond recognition, picked up the report, and continued to read it with relish.

"Summary of the Division of Mysteries' Advanced Magical Research Remit Defining Meeting"

"Excuse me," the report was flipped to the second half, he suddenly raised his head and shouted towards the fireplace, "help me check if all my students are at school?"

"Who?" came the armored voice from the fireplace, "Where should I go?"

"Look at your good friend Nelson, you're going to stretch your muscles."

"okay."

The armor happily agreed, and then there was the sound of iron plates colliding and dull but hollow footsteps. The footsteps gradually faded away, and Dumbledore continued to lower his head to read the report.

After an unknown amount of time, Dumbledore's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the armor's returning footsteps. He raised his head, the flame in the fireplace trembled, and the sound of the armor's urn came in.

"He's here, I saw him, playing with his friends on the Quidditch pitch."

"Got it, thank you."

The armor responded, and the flames in the fireplace quickly returned to calm. Only the sound of Dumbledore flipping through the parchment and Fox pecking at the acorns remained in the office.

After a while, when Dumbledore finished reading the last paragraph, he sighed, put down the parchment, turned around and looked at the wall clock behind him, shook his head, and murmured, "It looks like he's gone."

At the end of the report, it stopped at two departments that were rejected—the Office of Life and Death Research, and the Office of Time and History Research. Seven years of advanced study".

Armor, who had had enough activities outside the door, proudly held his head and waxed himself, thinking happily: "When you buy butter beer, don't forget your good brother!"

...

"interesting."

Nurmengard.

Grindelwald was sitting in the shadow of the room on the top floor of the Black Tower. He only had the back of one hand resting on the armrest outside. Everything in the shadow was unknown. He waved his hand and interrupted the report to him under the steps. saint.

"What's the matter? My lord? Do you have any doubts?"

The saint could only see Grindelwald's hand, and couldn't fathom his emotions, so he couldn't help feeling a little nervous.

"Didn't you notice that you repeated a meaningless sentence twice?" Grindelwald asked softly, and he

"Hold... sorry, my lord," the saint under the steps stammered, "I may... maybe I was too nervous, so I didn't have a good, good... uh—"

"Organize the language very well," Grindelwald helped him complete the sentence, and said softly, "I don't blame you for wasting my time. In fact, my time is not very valuable, but I I don't want this kind of thing to happen to our relatives, our brothers and sisters again. If you waste a word on Nurmengard and even the wizards in the world... No, a second of effort, you can think Think, can your short life like mine repay the debt you owed?"

"Big... my lord."

This saint who came from America was the first time to report to Grindelwald. The witch who was in charge of the report was poached by the penguin and left inexplicably. He only knew Mr. Grindelwald I am very concerned about the details, but I didn't expect it to reach this level.

"Okay, don't put too much psychological pressure on me. When everyone makes mistakes, just don't do it next time... I read your report," Grindelwald said briskly in an elder-like tone, as if just now He is not the same person who taught the saints not to waste time, "You have done a good job, but you can do better... Don't think that the families of those losers are worthless loose sand. Those families who control power and wealth in the United States decide The direction of this country, their strength does not lie in the people who hold these powers, but in the wealth behind them. Those people are... Hehe, they are all serving their sentences in Nelson's prison, but their wealth is still outside, waiting to be fed , want to create greater wealth, you have to satisfy that hunger and thirst, serve them, let those vulgar lucky ones gather together, reproduce the glory of their ambitious fathers who are suffering, and give them parasitism A worm-like life has some value, do you understand?"

"I see, my lord," said the saint feverishly, "we're going to control—"

"Shh," Grindelwald interrupted him, "don't say it so harshly, we just gave them a choice, if they are not willing to be lonely, I think Glory will still be willing to take care of them."

His hand, which was placed in the sight of the saint, also retracted. After a long time, there was a "click" in the shadows, as if the sound of metal breaking, and Grindelwald's words came lazily, " Go ahead and do something good, we've never been bad people."

The saint promised, stood up, and walked backwards down the spiral staircase. When Grindelwald's door completely disappeared from view, he drew out his wand, spun around in place, and quickly disappeared.

"Alas... all previous efforts have been wasted."

Grindelwald put down the things in his hands, and the runes that shone with lavender light were slowly dimming. These runes were engraved on a metal plate the size of a fingernail, connected to each other, and connected to form a standard circle , but the brilliance of magic power was broken between the last rune and the first rune, as if the person who engraved it suddenly had Parkinson's disease, and his hand shook violently.

Grindelwald sighed, grabbed his wand and waved it casually, and the room suddenly became brighter. He blocked the light source not to make himself look more like a villain, but to better observe these flashing lines in the dark.

The piece of metal finally revealed its true face, it was disassembled from a small ball with several exquisite pistons like an air pump, and a small broken silver ball was placed next to the metal, countless densely packed Some runes were embellished on it, some were carved in the later stage, and some were melted into the metal with alchemy at the beginning of manufacture.

This is one of the important works of the magic factory created by Nelson. Any alchemy product that requires movement will be related to it, perhaps the core, or the parts at the connection point. At the beginning of the design, Nelson out of efficiency and confidentiality The reason is that every creation made by him will be disassembled into parts that can be used as common as possible, and then assembled by alchemy dolls assembled by alchemy dolls, resulting in many wizards who use or even produce them only know the purpose But without knowing the reason, it swept the magic market almost all over the world in such a muddled way.

Grindelwald doesn't always think about conquering the world. In his spare time, one of his hobbies is to study these things. These things don't have any advanced skills in the application of alchemy and ancient runes. The most essential Part of it is condensed in the structure of the product. The combination of runes that almost all wizards are familiar with can achieve some incomprehensible effects through some strange structures.

A lot of evidence shows that Nelson's unique alchemy came from the foreign witch who planted flowers in Ilvermorny. Many thoughtful wizards in Nurmengard wanted to contact her, but she locked herself in In the flower garden, it has not been exposed for a long time.

Grindelwald was fascinated by these exquisite structures. He not only wanted to relax his mind by studying them, but also couldn't forget the steel titans that could resist powerful magical creatures without the manipulation of wizards. Perhaps wizards like him were not afraid of them. , but for those ordinary wizards, this kind of war weapon is simply an unshakable god-they are invulnerable, fearless, and have powerful firepower. If they can walk on the ground overwhelmingly, it will be the last piece of his great career puzzle!

"But why do you always try to hide it? Since it brings progress, why resist it?"

Grindelwald smiled helplessly, and used his magic wand to crush the parts that failed to restore into nothingness. He originally only wanted to cultivate an heir like him—alone, full of hatred but calm enough, and with the vision of a prophet— But now it seems that there are many more surprises than expected.

"Why did I pause for a moment when I was engraving the last stroke, and even my perception of time became confused?"

Grindelwald rubbed his chin, and unconsciously put on the same posture as Dumbledore at this moment, "Is this the way you prevent cracking? It's really terrible magic. It seems that all these years, I don't know Where you know, you have made a lot of progress."

He recalled what happened just now. Holding the metal sheet, he used magic power to drive the carving knife to draw the last stroke at the breakpoint between the last rune and the first rune. Lights up in his hand, and the piece of metal swayed at a strict frequency like the wings of a butterfly, but just as he breathed a sigh of relief and was about to turn his attention to the reporting saint, he just heard a sentence At that time, a sudden change occurred.

The rune in his hand was broken at the last stroke, it was a completely different stroke, the light of magic power gradually went out, and the saint under the stairs repeated what he just said.

"Is it magic?"

Grindelwald touched his face in bewilderment, forgot about cracking the parts, stood up, wrapped his clothes tightly, and walked quickly to the balcony, looking at the cloudless autumn colors and the lone goose on the horizon, he licked his lips. Lips, jumped down.

You Lan swallowed his falling figure in the air with some lavender fire, and no one noticed that someone left on the black tower.

...

North America, Mount Greylock.

In the nursery of Ilvermorny, Nelson held his wand tightly and stared at the hourglass-like glass container in front of him.

A coquettish and beautiful purple flower is slowly falling from the top of the hourglass, falling into the soil at the bottom through the tightened bottleneck in the middle. , an emerald green fruit grew from small to large at the bottom of the stamen, and finally detached from the petals and fell into the soil at the bottom of the hourglass.

Immediately afterwards, the hourglass turned over, and the unrooted seed fell to its original position. During this process, the process of flower decay was re-enacted in reverse steps, and the corrupted petals condensed from the void became gorgeous again. It gives people a strange feeling for no reason—it's not reverse growth, but some kind of more incomprehensible process.

Suddenly, when the seed passed through the bottleneck, there was an abnormality. It did not shrink like it was placed upside down, but swelled up, almost breaking through the narrow bottleneck.

Nelson's hair stood on end, and his instinctive fear made him raise his arm. The sword as thin as a second hand appeared in his hand. With a swing of the sword, the hourglass and its contents were instantly vaporized by the high temperature.

"It's been stuck here for a long time, and it has been unstable during the restoration process. Do you have any ideas?"

The witch's weary voice came from behind him.