My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

"Are you talking about the Department of Mysteries?" Tom raised his eyebrows, "Stop making strange prophecies."

"Did he prophesy anything?" Credence asked curiously.

"You don't want to know."

"Tell me, maybe I want to know."

"Want to bet?"

...

"Ding--"

In the red newsstand, a stiff female voice sounded.

"Welcome to the British Ministry of Magic, please explain the reason for your visit."

"Confession? As expected of a new building, these things need to be improved," Nelson raised his eyebrows, and the gold-plated letter box slipped out of his cuff, "I'm here to find Nobby Rich."

"Excuse me—" The female voice paused, and soon changed to a real voice, "You don't need to make an appointment, please wait a moment."

The space in the pavilion fell suddenly, and it was possible to go deep underground without being flushed by the toilet. The "privilege" mentioned by Rich in the letter has some real effects.

Not long after, the glass door in front of Nelson opened, and what came into view was a clean and spacious corridor. There were only two doors in the entire corridor, and one of the relatively large wooden doors was being pushed open forcefully. A group of wizards with unkind faces Angrily, they filed out of the door.

They were dressed luxuriously but out of fashion, with cumbersome accessories hanging on their bodies, but they revealed a rogue and shabby temperament. Nelson even saw a few familiar faces among the group of people. Except for being older, they were almost the same as him in Sri Lanka. A copy of some of Leitlin's classmates.

Nelson leaned against the wall and let them pass.

"Who does he think he is? Shafiq's dog!"

"This is his territory, please don't talk about it."

"When is it your turn to teach me a lesson? This was our territory not long ago!"

"There is someone in front, you..."

The leading wizard gritted his teeth and walked towards Nelson. After being reminded that he saw someone not far away, he put away his anger, raised his chin, and maintained his posture.

The flaxen hair color may not be recognizable in the UK, but the iconic cane and beauty tips are so recognizable.

"Mr. Malfoy."

When he passed in front of him arrogantly, Nelson raised the brim of his hat slightly, and greeted with a smile. He only felt it was funny to hear these wizards who used to control the wind and rain talk about "territory" like hooligans.

"Huh?" Old Malfoy stopped, his cane rested on the ground, he squinted his eyes, and looked at Nelson standing next to him, as if his eyes were not very good, "You are?"

The wizard who told him not to speak came closer to his ear and said something softly. He opened his eyes wide and looked at Nelson's face carefully.

"Your child Abraxas and I are classmates of Slytherin," Nelson said softly, glancing at a large group of people blocked by the stopped old Malfoy, "but I'm older than him."

"Slytherin should look like this," old Malfoy nodded, rolled his eyes, and changed the topic, "but I heard that you...you are very close to Black's family."

For a moment, Nelson thought that he was going to repeat Harry Potter's admission experience, but then, the old Malfoy's words surprised him.

"Borlux and I were good friends before, when we were at Hogwarts," he said with a sad expression on his face, "It's a pity that we have been entangled in trivial matters these years, and the relationship with our old friends has become somewhat cold. Seeing you reminds me of my youth."

"Hiss..." Nelson gasped. Just before school started, he heard Borlux scolding at Black's house.

"You suddenly woke me up," Old Malfoy said with a smile. "When I go back, I must find old friends to catch up with old friends. If I have time, I will come to my house as a guest. Abraxas admires you the most, especially after August. , talking about me at home every day, and on my birthday this year, he even gave me a self-filling snuff bottle, you guys are much better than us old guys."

Nelson can guarantee that Abraxas would rather have dragon plague and syphilis than think about himself, and the factory in Nurmengard doesn't even produce snuff bottles, but now that his father said so, he has to think about it, old Mal Fu took Nelson to exchange a few words again, and he was not as arrogant as he imagined. This old and sophisticated guy read between the lines of "earn money together" and "I can help you earn more". Such an impulsive person who knows how to grasp any life-saving straw, Nelson, who never tires of trouble, can only say, "You can have a good chat with Mr. Black."

"Your words are enough." Old Malfoy's eyes brightened immediately, "Are you going to find the minister? I won't bother you."

"You go slowly."

"By the way, that kid is not a good person." Old Malfoy raised his eyebrows, "You are different, you are a Slytherin, and you were born to stand with us."

"Ah, yes, yes, yes." Nelson didn't show his disgust, but simply said goodbye, pushed through the crowd, and walked towards the still shaking door.

They didn't stop either, and rushed into the elevator parked by the corridor.

"For the vast majority of people in this world, mediocrity is the eternal theme of life."

There is no decorative atmosphere in the huge office. The walls are covered with freshly painted white putty, creating a sense of boundless and depressing chaos. A wooden table that still exudes the fragrance of lacquer is placed in the center of the office. , the tall and wide office chairs are facing back to the door, placed in a symmetrical position, but no matter how you look at it, it looks like a parody of the Wizengamot's chair, except for them and the coat hanger at the door, this room The office is simply a rough room.

"I may have been such a person before, but then I discovered that the definition of this thing is completely based on comparison. Compared with you, I am so wise that I am abnormal."

The door creaked and swayed, and I don’t know how much resentment the person who just opened it made it work so long. The smooth tile floor is full of footprints, they are intricate and overlapped. , big and small, it seems like a lot of people are going through an extraordinary struggle here just now.

At this moment, the high-backed chair was slightly twisting from side to side, a young and not too young hand stretched out from behind the chair, holding a tin soldier with a sword, waving it in the air like an unenlightened child, From time to time, he danced with the demon king in the other hand, and the magic light flickered.

Footsteps came from the door, and the battle between the tin soldier and the devil was stopped by the referee.

"Is there anything else?" The person behind the chair said impatiently, "If you are still fooling around a year ago, I suggest you go home now and contact the jailer of Azkaban to find a prisoner for you." Better berths."

Nelson, who had just walked in through the shaky door, chuckled, looked around the room, rubbed his red ears from the cold, took off his hat, and hung it on the hanger at the door.

"Thank you for your support of our products, Minister Rich," he stood at the door, holding the unscrewed mailbox in his hand, looking at the small sharp sword protruding from the edge of the back of the chair, and said with a smile, " The tin soldier in your hand was made by mediocre people, but it brings you happiness too, doesn't it?"

Hearing his voice, the chair suddenly stopped, and then turned around quickly. Nobby Rich was no longer flustered when he was besieged by various entangled magic families. His ruddy face was full of calmness and satisfaction. He carefully placed the tin soldier and the demon king in black on the table, straightened up and glanced at them, and saw that their faces were still somewhat asymmetrical, so he stretched out his hand and adjusted their positions.

After finishing these, he showed a smile that he had practiced for a month, opened his arms, and said in an exaggerated tone: "Oh! Look who is here!"

The perpetual opening, and Nelson hadn't heard another greeting from the lucky fellow since he became Minister for Magic.

"Good day, Mr Minister."

"Merlin's pants, you should have informed," Richie rubbed his bloodshot cheeks, stood up, and walked quickly to Nelson with windy feet, half complaining and half affectionately saying, " You know, there are always some unpopular guys running into my office recently, so I asked the internal affairs to remove all the sofas and chairs here. Wait a minute, I'm going to ask someone to move the stool, you can rest on my chair for a while."

Seeing Rich's affectionate and even flattering attitude, Nelson was not surprised at all. Nurmengard's high-quality and cheap goods almost destroyed those century-old family workshops in Diagon Alley. The industry that they are proud of, and these families that rely on monopoly to grab wealth all the year round are the diehards among the diehards of the Ministry of Magic. The pure-bloods who were almost counterattacked by the search were driven overseas to form a government-in-exile, while the helpless, Muggle-born young minister, supported only by Judge Shafik, made a big fuss because of the sanction activities against the Magical Congress of America he led during the holidays. Shine brilliantly, sit firmly in the position, under the ups and downs, it is no wonder that the group of people who just went out have such stinky faces.

To be honest, Nelson wouldn't be surprised even if Nobby Rich suddenly knelt on the ground and knocked himself out, but he didn't act domineering because of it. Zhang's silver folding stool shook and said with a smile, "It's okay, I brought the stool myself."

"Hahaha," Richie was stunned when he saw the folding stool, and then he burst out laughing, "You are always so well-prepared, it seems that this is why you can always do things that others can't! But I still learned that I would tell them that no amount of grand welcome can be overstated for important guests."

Nelson shrugged, moved the folding stool to the desk, and sat down.

Rich apologized, closed the door and left.

Nelson looked at the furnishings in the office, feeling quite admirable in his heart, this minister who is not much older than himself can already make those people burnt out, he is simply born to be a minister.

But this kind of image is difficult to connect with the newcomer in the Department of Legal Enforcement who dared to impeach the minister at the time. Perhaps this position prompted him to make adaptive changes.

Not much to say, the sound of the door shaft turning sounded again.

"Mr. Minister," Nelson asked curiously when he heard the door open, "When I came here, I met a group of people who just walked out of your office."

"Oh, you said those guys," Richie sat on the high-back chair and moaned comfortably, "stubborn guys, if the British wizarding world really let them take the helm, within ten years, We probably can't even compare to post-war Muggles."

"Is it that serious?"

"Of course, that's why we choose to absorb young blood," Rich said, crossing his fingers, imitating Dumbledore's posture, "Times are advancing, look at the tin soldier in front of me, how could children in the past have this ability to be themselves?" A moving, wizard-like toy."

The tin soldier on the table raised his small rapier by himself, and charged bravely at the opposite devil, but was soon hit under the table by a spell.

"On our list, you, Tom Riddle, Miranda Goshawk, and Alastor Moody, are all outstanding Hogwarts graduates we will try to recruit in the next few years "Rich took out a long list and pushed it in front of Nelson. "Of course, there are many others, but we need to make a distinction in terms of importance."

Nelson read the list. Most of them are students who have performed well in school. Their strengths stand out in various aspects. The earliest batch was in the same class as Miranda, a senior who was still selling her own textbooks. In Christian's class, there was only Moody.

"Moody?"

"Oh, you may not pay attention to these things," Rich explained patiently, "He won the World Youth Dueling Championship, the same one that your Charms professor Filius Flitwick once won. Kudos, we think, for being a good Auror and adding some long-overdue fresh faces to Azkaban, which was largely a non-existent one under Foley."

"He does have potential." Nelson had to agree with the vision of this list.

"Over the years, the Ministry of Magic has become less and less attractive, Nelson," Rich said helplessly, spreading his hands, "Relationship households and donors have filled the offices, making this newly built building permeated with The smell of corruption, it's not good, as I said before, most people are mediocre, but if we let them occupy positions of power, then this country has no future."

There was Grindelwald's shadow in Rich's words, and Nelson couldn't help worrying. He even almost forgot his Muggle origin.

"But Mr. Shafik, our respected Chief Wizengamot, he is different from most people, he has a pair of discerning eyes," Rich said in a low voice, leaning closer, "he can find the same with us. Such a hopeful person, you may not believe it, this list is just for you, count the time, Mr. Shafiq should also come."