My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

"Vampires?" whispered Tom, perplexed. "Are there still vampires in London?"

"I thought you knew how to tell the difference when you met that vampire in Diagon Alley last time." Nelson turned his head and said softly, "Pay attention to its eyes and neck—"

"Mr. Wizard, please don't use me as a teaching aid—it seems that you haven't learned enough. Vampires have hearing that far surpasses wizards. You must remember clearly." Troka pushed open the trap door of the bar. Come out, unbutton the top two buttons of the shirt, move your neck and shoulders, "We are not magical animals, vampires are just people who have been hurt and become a little special. Although we don't have the right to hold magic wands, we are too. peers."

"We're not here to discuss human rights issues with you." Tom stepped forward impatiently, stopping in front of Nelson, "Or are you going to stand up for him?"

"No, no, no." Troka waved his hand and said to Nelson, "Mr. Wizard, since you understand vampires, you should also understand how we reproduce, right? So is it really good for you to kick the door in like this?"

As soon as the words fell, the waiters and bartenders who had been scattered around the tavern gathered around him. They grinned mockingly at the helpless two people, with intertwined teeth and dark red pupils. Exuding a compelling cold light.

"I still have to say something," Troka turned his offense and defense back, and his expression became sluggish. He curled his lips, "So children should not come to this kind of place."

"We didn't kick the door." Nelson frowned, as if this was a very important matter. He looked at the bearded beard drinking bad wine at the round table deep in the tavern, and said softly, "Although vampires have not been scratched like werewolves, Classified as a dangerous magical animal, but a peaceful life is hard to come by, especially in a Muggle metropolis like London, are you sure you want to stand up for such a scum?"

"Scum?" Troka also has his own principles, "I don't know where he offended you. I don't want to judge your private affairs, but as a tavern owner, you can't let your customers be in your own territory. Being attacked, it seems that you are also a sensible person, and you should be able to understand the difficulty of those of us who go to other places to make a living."

"not understand."

Nelson reached out to touch his arms, and the vampires on the opposite side all looked tense, and it seemed that the battle seemed to be on the verge of breaking out——

I saw Nelson took out a Galleon and bounced it. The gold coin that was constantly rotating in the air would occasionally reflect the burning candlelight on the bar at a certain angle, making people who caught a glimpse of it dazzled. The perfect parabola attracts the attention of everyone around. It seems to have been spinning in the sky for a long time, and reluctantly fell into Troka's freshly cleaned wine glass on the bar. The metal and glass collided continuously, making a crisp clang. sound.

"Two glasses of lemonade, no need to look for it." Nelson said, the gold coins in the cup finally lost power and lay flat on the bottom of the glass. He turned and walked towards the deepest part of the tavern. Tom walked aside and turned to Trot Ka said, "Now we are also guests, please don't meddle in our own business."

Troka froze in place. He didn't understand how to solve this situation. In his long life, he had never seen such a person who didn't follow the routine. He didn't understand why these two young people dared to do this Go in, even if they're wizards—after all, none of the drunks sitting in taverns look like good people.

"Troka? What should we do?" asked the young bartender beside him, "Should we kick them out? Or..."

"What are you thinking, they should be students of Hogwarts, although I don't know why they are in London now." Troka pondered for a long time, and said, "Go and get two glasses of lemonade, clean it up, wait a minute Serve them."

He lowered his head to look at the floor, stepped on it again, and said to himself, "It's time to repair the shop recently, why does it feel like the floor is loose and creaking all the time."

At this time, Nelson and Tom had passed through the noisy crowd of the tavern and walked to the table in the innermost seat. The drunkards along the way looked sideways and were surprised at their arrival. These two clean young men looked similar to each other. This drunken tavern is out of place, but they quickly turned back and immersed themselves in the cloudy liquid and bragging on the wine table. For the citizens of this kind of country that is trapped in involution and on the verge of stagflation, caring about others is better than drinking two more cup.

Nelson and Tom sat down opposite the bearded fat man who was drinking heavily. The old chair creaked. Tom leaned on the back of the chair with his legs crossed, tilting up the stool legs, and the supporting stool legs rubbed against the dusty wooden floor. Make an unpleasant creaking sound.

"There's someone here." The bearded fat man raised his head and stared at Tom with wide eyes. His eyes were bloodshot, and he seemed to have drunk too much. His eyes were fierce, and he bared a mouthful of blackened yellow teeth. The stench was suffocating. , that oily bald head looks sweaty, and there seems to be some small animal hiding in the beard, and I don't know how long it hasn't been cleaned.

"I didn't see it." Tom raised his eyebrows frivolously. His right hand had already stretched out to the sleeve of his left arm, as if he was ready to attack the drunk man in front of him at any time, but he held back the idea of ​​pleasure and revenge. The sweetness of revenge is dedicated to his best friend, so that he can taste the fruits of this tragedy with his own mouth. He hopes that the cries of the drunk man under the cruel torture can satisfy Nelson, so that he can let go of the sadness and pain that linger in his eyes.

Looking at Nelson, who lowered his head and didn't know what he was thinking, he was very patient now, and he was willing to have a good chat with this dead man, and play a game of cat and mouse with him.

"What's your name, please?" Tom asked politely, nodding his head. It seemed that he was here to make friends, or a reporter who came to interview, but the madness in his eyes couldn't be hidden.

"I don't know." The bearded man's lips squirmed slightly. The drunk could hardly meet Tom's eyes. He didn't know whether it was because of heart palpitations or sleepiness. He agitated, then put down his wine glass, rubbed his arm against his beard full of wine, continued to stare at Tom, and shouted in a rough voice, "Kid, stay away from me."

"I don't know." Tom took out a piece of paper and wrote and drew on it with his hands, repeating the drunk man's speech word by word. This man's English is not authentic, and he doesn't sound like a local. Tom is satisfied Nodding his head, he knew that his magic had not found the wrong target.

"What are you writing?" the drunk man rubbed his sleepy eyes and roared, breathing heavily.

"Your last words." Tom picked up the piece of paper and looked at it for a while, then crumpled it up and threw it aside, "Sorry, I didn't realize just now that no one cares about your scum's last words."

"What are you talking about? Are you here to find fault?!" The drunk man jumped up, but he seemed to be tripped by something, and his feet softened and he sat back on the chair. He seemed to realize that he was too drunk. He was already powerless to be tough, so he clenched his fist and hammered the table hard, his bloodshot eyes widened, and he kept cursing and swearing, while warning, "I hope you didn't come to find fault, while I'm in a good mood, you can Roll as far as you can.”

"Coincidentally, I'm here to find fault." Tom is well versed in the principle of "If you want to make people crazy, you must first make them break their defenses." He got up slightly and stretched his arms to touch the big greasy head of the drunk man, and said with a light smile , "It's not the turn of a subjugated slave to make irresponsible remarks to me."

"What did you say?!" The drunk man was pressed down by Tom, lying on the table, his face was covered with alcohol, and he hadn't got up yet, but the people watching the scene around the table couldn't hold back anymore. They looked similar The drunk was in the same group, maybe a fellow villager, and now they all stood up and accused Tom, "Boy, how dare you say such a thing?!", "Apologize before we get angry!" Civilized greetings, besides, all kinds of yelling and cursing that Tom couldn't understand rang out one after another, and the whole tavern was in chaos for a while, and the drunkards at the door also stood up to watch the excitement.

"Oh, I thought all the Polish men were on the battlefield. I didn't expect London to have your nest." Tom made a look of sudden realization, the old god sat down on the ground, and suddenly pointed at their feet , shouting anxiously, "Look, what are you wrapping around your legs?"

Troca, who came over with two glasses of lemonade, finally realized that the rattling floor of the tavern today was not due to years of disrepair, but that the hollows under the wooden floor were covered with dense snakes. One after another crawled out of the holes in the wall, spitting out letters and climbing up the trouser legs of the people around them. All kinds of colorful snakes twisted and twisted into a ball, poisonous and non-toxic, big and small, gray and colorful. ... Countless numbers of snakes huddled in the small tavern, and greeted the group of drunkards friendly. The drunkards froze in place and enjoyed a free sobering service.

Troka tremblingly stepped on the ground with relatively few snakes and approached the table with a tray. After some twists and turns, he put down the tray, and for the first time looked at this black-haired boy who seemed to be uneducated before. The lemon juice in the crystal glass was placed in front of the two of them, and he begged in a low voice, "Mr. Wizard, there is a wrong and a debt, you might as well let them go first, so that you can make room for your business."

"Oh?" Tom looked up at the shopkeeper who was very knowledgeable about business affairs. He turned his head and whispered to Nelson, "Nal, what do you think? They may all be accomplices."

"Let them go." Nelson raised his head, with no expression on his face. As soon as he finished speaking, Tom turned his head and stood up, made a grimace, and made a forward pounce, watching the group of people pushing and shoving. He couldn't help laughing at the drunk man running towards the door.

"Mr. Wizard, good magic." Troka asked worriedly while complimenting, "But the law of secrecy..."

"They're just a group of alcoholics whose brains have been burned by alcohol. It's normal to have hallucinations." Nelson said blankly. For a moment, the three of them forgot that they were sitting across from each other because their legs and feet were completely entangled by Nagini. Action, the bearded fat man who was completely sober at this moment, his face was pale, sweating profusely, trembling all over, even the tables and chairs made loud noises, until Nelson turned his head to look at him, he stopped his instinctive movements.