My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

"Did it ever occur to you that no one cared about your little rubbish baby and brought you here just because you messed with the wrong people," Tom gently lifted his wand from Harriman's convulsive hand Take it, "The Cruciatus Curse was used well, your heart is full of hatred, you want to torture me, even kill me, right?"

Harriman's eyes widened in horror, Tom repeated his inner voice almost exactly, when exactly? Has your heart been prying into it? What kind of Legilimency is this? Harriman instinctively wanted to reconstruct Occlumency, but the more flustered he was, the more thoughts that shouldn't appear in his mind came up uncontrollably, as if a pair of incomparably delicate hands tore open his chest precisely. Heart, outline the key points hidden under his bloody memory with a red pen like notes.

"Who did I offend?" Harriman's mind quickly flashed through every face he had seen in London. Their trip was already secret enough that they had never had contact with any wizards before they were caught, and those whom he saw The useless Muggle was not on his mind at all, and Harriman might never know the answer to this question.

"Have you ever thought that you will sit in the position of those people you tortured?" Tom clapped his hands and waved Harriman's wand. Vipers emerged from the tip of the wand and quickly shattered. Under the pressure of the curse, the already overwhelmed wand wailed, "Are you still obsessed with those rags that are so ridiculous that people can't laugh? If you don't open your mouth, the next thing may be that you can't Accepted."

Harriman tightly closed his eyes and mouth, trying to physically cut off Tom's Legilimency, even though he knew it was futile, but there was no other way.

"Oh? No wonder you know so much about wizards in Britain. Has anyone actually trained them?"

Harriman's wand twirled lightly at Tom's fingertips, making beautiful arcs one after another. Although the wand was taken away, the pain from the Cruciatus Curse was still strong, and even intensified. Harriman struggled to lift At the beginning, when he met Tom's black hole-like eyes, he saw a blood color that was countless times crueler and fiercer than him in the depths of the blackness, just like a local hooligan in a village saw the real burning, killing and looting There is no blood on this young man's body, but the madness that is the source of his magic power is so shocking. Although it is treacherous and terrifying, this kind of power still has an upright momentum. Why is a man without blood debts? Do people have the spirit of a devil? Harriman didn't know the root and cause of this contradictory appearance, and he was only left in the panic that the insights that had been tried and tested in the past were useless at this moment.

Like a well-behaved student who recites the text, Tom reads Harriman's memories hidden in the depths of his memory that he does not want to touch.

"I think 'Vampire of Hanover' is a much better name than Fritz Harriman, why don't you keep using it?"

Hearing this long-dead name, Harriman wailed like a frightened horse and covered his ears, but Tom showed no kindness to him, and even after looking through the memory, he didn't even need to be angry up.

"Seven years, twenty-seven people, how did you manage to be so average, so random? Your taste is really perverted," Tom thought for a moment, and said, "I'll just say how you look more and more familiar, when I was a child I have heard your story, the famous murderer in Germany, but I remember that you were executed in 1925... No wonder, you are a wizard, so whose head is stored in the basement of the University of Göttingen? ?”

At first, Harriman just felt terrified, and the feeling of this kind of memory being played around was really uncomfortable, but soon, his face became paler, and the content of Tom's dictation was no longer the killing memory he was proud of. It was those old things that even he himself deliberately forgot. He had already forgotten why he became like this, but under Tom's reminder, he had to recall it painfully.

"You were first accused when you were sixteen? Tsk tsk, when I was sixteen, I would still be sad for a long time because of violating school rules," Tom was a little tired from squatting, he stood up and looked at a piece Carrion looked down at the already incoherent man, "Oh, you were accused of killing a railway worker who found out that you abused children, and the person who reported it to the police was your father. I really can't imagine what you did What made your father dislike you so much... I'm curious, why would a sixteen-year-old wizard only dare to attack children?"

"Don't say it, please, don't say it..."

"Oh, so here it is," Tom let out a mocking laugh, the laughter passed through Harriman's palm, passed through his eardrum, and hit the depths of his memory, "No wonder you like wearing this kind of clothes, It turns out that for the weak, what you fear will eventually become your disguised shell?"

Tom grabbed Harriman's hair and lifted him up to the same height as himself. His eyes opened a path leading directly to the depths of Harriman's soul, and he tore Harriman's consciousness and fell down together, falling to the place where reason and magic Layers of closed restricted areas.

Harriman just wanted to quickly escape from this frighteningly depressing place. Tom's recitation mixed with quick comments was better than all the punishments and censures he had ever seen. He had worked hard for many years and spent one life after another The serious shell that had been piled up was broken bit by bit by these careless words, revealing the shivering boy who was curled up in the depths of the shell. He was naked and covered with a dirty railway worker's coat. , squatting helplessly in the corner sobbing, a shirtless man sitting on the head of the bed, smoking inferior tobacco with an oily pipe, flicking the ash on his body from time to time with a grinning grin.

"It tastes good, boy?"

Tom let go of his hand, and Harriman's body fell limply. On the verge of collapse, he saw Tom's lips opening and closing from the corner of his vision: "Does it taste good? Boy."

The humiliation at the age of eleven and the humiliating experience that made him cry so clearly appeared in front of his eyes. Harriman shed bitter tears. He understood that he had never and would never forget this past, and that his dignity was trampled on by Tom. The soles of his feet were whipped repeatedly, his eyes went dark, and he almost forgot who he was. In a trance, only Tom's faint voice could be heard.

"You put your father's head there? Seriously, I thought I hated my irresponsible father enough not to even think about it."

"You want to drag the most stable Britain into the vortex of disorder in Prussia... I have to say that a group of mobs actually have a bit of a strategic vision, but what do you want to infiltrate? Do you rely on money? Or use that kind of Do you want to lure normal people who have already embarked on a civilized life in the days of worrying and drinking blood?"

"Tsk... Nurmengard?"

Tom clicked his tongue lightly and fell into silence. After a while, he looked down at Harriman, raised his hand, and a small green snake slipped out from his cuff, coiled around his fingertips, curled up, and then With a sudden jump, it jumped onto the top of Harriman's head. It searched through the hair for a moment, found the direction, and dexterously climbed onto Harriman's forehead, opened its mouth disproportionate to its body, and provoked it with its sharp fangs. the eyelid of his right eye.

Tom watched this scene silently, and saw the little snake gently licking Harriman's muddy eyeballs with the letter, the solid body became blurred, and soon turned into a snake-shaped magic power, only a pair of props The eyelid-covered fangs still remained solid, and the green magic power wrapped a group of inhuman souls, piercing into Harriman's eyeballs abruptly.

This process should be accompanied by severe pain, but Harriman, who had collapsed, could no longer feel the pain, or could not give corresponding feedback to the pain. As the magic power deepened, Harriman's body moved strangely like a snake. Twisted, his left eye widened suddenly, his left hand struggled to resist the next encounter, but his right hand slowly lifted up, holding down the disorderly dancing left hand, with a conflicted, weeping expression on the corner of his mouth Smiling expression.

Looking at the man whose expression was collapsing and even his soul was about to crumble, Tom suddenly felt a nauseating feeling in his throat. He retched and hit his forehead vigorously. He felt pleasure in the process of destroying a person. He was immersed in this kind of superior judgment, immersed in the enjoyment of playing with the soul wantonly, and this change of mentality had been unknown to him for a long time before, until now Only then did I react.

"Damn... how could this happen?" Tom raised his hand and pulled out his wand. The power of black magic was driving him on the path of destiny, and the spells from that green ancient magic book were appearing one by one. In front of his eyes, in a trance, the scene in front of him changed rapidly.

...

In the dirty alley, Credence's body had already fallen to the ground, the only remaining silent magic power lost its restraint, quickly nibbling away at his lifeless body, watching a mass of black flames about to burst from the ground Suddenly, Tom Riddle sneered, and a dazzling green light shot out from the tip of the staff, nailing the unformed monster in place.

He raised his head and took a deep breath, what a charming breath! This is power, it is power, it is eternal life!

He is intoxicated by his own power like the creator, and he is playing with malicious Moran recklessly. The monster that is feared by everyone on weekdays is as soft and fragile as plasticine under his spell. He spells with Moran's body Named himself—Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"I hate this mundane name."

He frowned, waved his hand, and the letters changed positions alternately with his movements, and finally became a brand new word - Voldemort.

...

"It's him again."

Tom clutched his temple with throbbing veins, gritted his teeth and cursed secretly, ever since Nelson received the box from Dumbledore, he could always see this damned self.

"Horcruxes, Momoran... can't you try some power without side effects?"

But soon, the figure in the alley distorted and deformed, with hair falling off and facial features deformed, becoming the appearance Nelson had shown him this morning.

Tom chuckled, and this Voldemort made that funny pose again, letting out a "hey hey hey" laugh.

"I hope my Boggart doesn't look like this."

Tom took a deep breath, his beating heart calmed down, his forehead was covered with fine sweat, he waved his hand, and a mirror floated in mid-air, he stared at himself in the mirror, and sneered, "You still have to stick to it?" Obsessed with rags that are too ridiculous to laugh at?"

He had just said it to Harriman, and now he said it to himself again.

The person in the mirror raised his head, and the figure in the alley disappeared, and Tom's sight returned to the room underground in Diagon Alley.

...

Harriman was raising his upper body in a cobra-like posture, his right eye bitten by a poisonous snake was filled with green light, exactly the same as Ludwig's grandfather once looked, Harriman shrank in the corner of his left eye, his body Covered with that old railroadman's suit.

"Weakness is no excuse to vent to someone weaker."

Tom narrowed his eyes and raised his chin at Harriman, "Take back your things, do better, and finally...destroy them."

"Harriman" nodded, and the bent lower body gradually stood up straight, returning to a human posture.

"I'll stare at you," Tom said indifferently, and the snake teeth on Harriman's eyelids burst into his eyes, "whatever you have ever wanted to do, now I just want to watch those who want to borrow With Gnar's dream darkening Chen Cang's rats, the plan fell through."

He stuffed the cracked wand back into Harriman's hand, and watched his figure disappear in place.

"Everyone has ghosts, only stupid Tom Riddle wants to live forever." Tom looked at the empty room, shrugged, went to the cabinet in the corner, found a chocolate frog, and tore it open. Packing, stuffing the chocolate frog struggling to escape into his mouth, chewing viciously, he lowered his head, looked at the chocolate frog picture with the portrait of Armando Dippet, and muttered, "When will there be A portrait of Lord Riddle?"

The bitterness of the chocolate dissipated in the mouth and was quickly replaced by repeated sweetness. Tom sat on the cabinet while eating the chocolate.

"Black magic affects the mind subtly, but why can I feel its erosion every time?" Tom shook his head, at least for him, this is no longer a problem, he lowered his head, He took out a small silver ball from his pocket, raised it to his lips and asked, "Where are you?"