My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

"But that's my war, too."

Nelson's eloquent answer overwhelmed the sound of the torrential rain. His piercing eyes made Andre find it difficult to look directly at him. The light of the curse condensed around his body, attracting the attention of both sides on the street.

"Yes, Nelson, that's your war! But it's not your war alone!" Andre grabbed Nelson's arm, and the light of magic power gradually dimmed Xiali. He shook his head vigorously and said, "You What do you think victory can bring them? It will only make the wizards vigilant, and then launch more cruel sanctions and revenge. You are a person who can see the overall situation and even see the future. Think about the event that was forcibly catalyzed and terminated by you War! Back then you could laugh and yell and it didn't matter because you weren't German, you weren't Jew, you weren't French, but now it's different, you're a wizard, Nelson, and you know what you're going to do next. What are the consequences of going out?"

"That makes sense." Nelson nodded seriously, "But strictly speaking, my native place should be France."

"Don't you think I'm joking, Nelson! What kind of friendship are we? The last letter my favorite student sent me was asking me to take care of you who didn't depend on you. It doesn't matter at all!" Andre gritted his teeth and warned, "Don't be angry with me, I got your things in a bad way, and I can freely admit that the purpose of my visit this time is Berlin Lord Grindelwald needs their magic, I could even send someone from Nurmengard to help these fragile Muggles kill them now, but I won't, do you know why?!"

"You're right, Muggles should learn to stand up on their own."

Nelson smiled, and just when Andre was satisfied with the effect of his persuasion, he raised his wand high, and the knotty elderberry was like a baton of a command orchestra in his hand. There is not much difference in the habit of dead wood, and no one would use it as a wand-except for the legend, some wizards on the street recognized this wand and contacted Igor Karkaroff to sell resurrection When Shi heard the news, their eyes suddenly became hot, and the spells attacking Muggles also became stronger. The iron armor spells stored by the missionaries collapsed and shattered like paper shells, and hot blood was spilled every moment. On the walls on both sides of the street.

The resistance of the Muggles gradually became weak. Just like what Jokunda told them, the wizards quickly learned about the attack method of firearms. This kind of bullet that goes straight is no different from a toy to the magic barrier. Magic power can only support them, but black magic is even more treacherous and unpredictable. They are getting more and more disadvantaged, and it is even difficult for them to organize a decent counterattack.

But no one backed down. This land that is being poisoned by black magic is their homeland. They have no support behind them, only their family members who need to be protected. Missionaries are passed on one after another in the hands of warriors, and the brilliance of magic is getting stronger and stronger. Dim, they have reached a desperate situation.

"Didn't you promise me?" Andre raised his arms to cover his eyes, the powerful magic power from the Elder Wand hurt his eyes, and the camouflage constructed by Nelson's transgender technique also collapsed under the washing of this magic power. Revealing his original face, Andre wanted to stop Nelson's movements just like he did just now, but even with the blessing of magic in his hands, it was difficult to get close to Nelson, just like the prayers of Muggles on the street. A fiery sun lit up on the dilapidated roof of a church that was destroyed by the war. Its heat caused the dementors to flee crazily. The dementors who were squeezed behind the team and did not escape the light were even burnt to flying. Ashen, Andre, with Nelson's magic, approached step by step, the lines of the scars on his face were pale, "Are you crazy? Are you going to lift the table?!"

What responded to him was an unusually loud falcon. In the Muggle formation, several people raised their heads in surprise. They were not the aborigines here, but people who responded to the call and came to help their compatriots. From Boston, some had been to Paris at the Expo, and they recognized the voice.

Andre moved his arm from his eyes a little, and Nelson was gone, only the ball of light, shining white light, rose higher and higher. From the point of view of wizards, the light is burning pain, and from the point of view of dementors, it is simply a death talisman, but to Muggles who do not even have magic power, it is so warm and peaceful.

"I'm afraid there won't be another person who knows the Patronus Charm in the whole of Berlin."

Thinking of what he had just said, Barry showed a self-deprecating smile. He put his arm around the annoyed Andre's shoulders, and stood beside him quietly. The two watched Nelson's unstoppable movements together.

The sun rose slowly, crossed the dilapidated roof of the clock tower, spread its wings and rose towards the clouds. The heavy rain that was dragged here did not even have time to fall to the ground, and was boiled and evaporated by the temperature of the patron saint, forming a dense fog that enveloped Berlin. , I can't tell whether this is ordinary fog, lost fog, or a mixture of the two.

The black wizards have raised their vigilance. Nelson, who has changed his face, is obviously a bad comer and has come prepared. This kind of chromatic magic does not seem to be their kindred spirit. Could it be a powerful magic? They didn't know if they could resist this shocking magic. Only Borgin Burke, who was panting by the window on the second floor of the mansion, saw a big hole in the sky covered in clouds and mist, and raised a kind of post-traumatic response. An agitated discomfort.

"No...here again."

Andre is right, this is their war. No matter what his position is, he is still a wizard. The chicks under the wings can't even catch bugs. If he is gone or dead, what should they do? How to do it? There was a trace of determination in Nelson's eyes. He clenched his fist and lifted it vigorously.

The mist emerged from the corpse of the dark wizard on the street, no different from the scene in Knockturn Alley. They rose into the sky, merged into the lost fog, and then condensed into purer mist and water droplets.

The portal formed by the lost mist opened beside Nelson, and a huge, scarlet eye was looking down at everything on the ground through the portal. It was Alexander's one-eyed eye, and it was also the driver of the Hogwarts Express running in the illusion. Headlights, the red train is galloping along the rails, passing through the tunnel formed by clouds and mist, and coming to Nelson in an instant from the underground of Auschwitz.

What replaced this rain was another rain, a rain of light shining with silver brilliance, a little bit of light falling like a meteor, falling down from the fog above the head, this deeply buried production line has a steady stream of replenishment, and it is overwhelming. The warriors of Gua raised their heads, and the light spots fell on them. They were radiant and constantly deforming metals. They approached the missionaries, penetrated from the gaps in the structure, transformed into corresponding shapes, and fit into the missionaries like a puzzle. in the structure of scholars.

The originally rough and wild structure has become fine. Andre, who witnessed all this, has never seen such a sex change technique. It can actually complete the transformation and upgrading of these alchemy props in the form of rain, and the silver thread weaves The exquisite gloves are like boxing gloves in an octagonal cage, making the wearer feel full of strength.

Andre looked up, Nelson's breath seemed to be beside him.

...

It seemed that he was nervous about the atmosphere in the ward, or maybe the exhaustion brought about by the successive shocks was too hard to resist. Christian just turned over, smacked his lips and continued to sleep.

Soon, there were erratic snoring sounds in the ward. Christian's nose opened and closed, an unhealthy flush appeared on his face, a trace of coldness leaked from his forehead, and his mouth opened and closed unconsciously, tightly squeezing the quilt. Jiao's hands couldn't stop trembling. Looking at her, Old Tom's face became a little nervous. He stood up with the corner of the bed, and wanted to go out and call the doctor.

"Don't worry," said Tom, behind Old Tom, "it's a normal reaction to the potion."

"Potion..."

Old Tom's footsteps stopped, and his face became even uglier. Even with his back turned to Tom, Tom could feel his uneasy mood. Old Tom seemed to be recalling the days when he was dominated by potions, and he seemed a little flustered Yes, but he managed to control his emotions in the end, and he didn't explode unscrupulously like the father and son when they first met.

After a long delay, he turned around slowly, looked at Tom who was sitting by the bed and teased the plants, and asked, "Is it...reliable?"

"Not sure," Tom shook his head, "I configured it myself."

"Oh, then I'm relieved." Old Tom sat down with his arm on the back of the chair, looking at least twenty years older than a few years ago, like an old yellowed newspaper, "You won't give Laura Eat unsafe things."

"Who knows?" Tom slipped a hand and pulled a leaf from the green plant on the window sill, then quickly stuffed it back into the leaves and pretended nothing happened, "Eating will get stuck too, it's dangerous Always everywhere, don't you think?"

Old Tom shook his head and didn't answer his words. He looked at Tom's side profile that resembled his own, and after a long time, he broke the silence and asked, "I haven't had time to ask, Laura...why was she hospitalized? "

"There was an accident on a street in London before, and a group of black wizards attacked Diagonal Lane. You can find out where it is later," Tom said, "I just passed by with her and another guy that day. I entrusted her to that guy, but he didn't know what to do, Hot Blood rushed in, locked Christian in the car before leaving, and she broke the light in the car herself."

"Then what?"

"When she was rescued, she was already in a coma, mainly due to mental stress and loss of strength," Tom thought for a while, and said, "I just asked Principal Dewente, and she told me that some people will have this kind of situation. , staying in a small claustrophobic space for a long time will cause nervousness. She told me that most of this is related to childhood experiences. It may be that Christian was treated badly during the period of being trafficked. For example, every day If the money to be stolen does not meet the standard, they will be locked up in a small dark room.”

Tom spoke lightly, without any ups and downs in tone or expression, as if he was talking about an ordinary thing, but old Tom was worried when he heard it. He subconsciously clenched the armrest of the chair, and the veins on the back of his hand full of age spots violently.

Tom pouted, walked to Christian's side, wiped the sweat off her face with a towel hanging by the bed, unscrewed a small green bottle for her to sniff, screwed the cap back to his own seat.

"What's that?" Old Tom asked curiously, looking at the bottle in Tom's hand.

"A potion that refreshes the mind."

"oh."

The conversation between the two is always like this. When there is nothing serious to say, it is often difficult to continue. During the period, the wizard in charge of treating Christian came in and cast some magic on her that neither Tom nor Old Tom could understand. , and left soon after inquiring about Christian's situation.

After the door was closed, Old Tom obviously couldn't sit still, his buttocks slightly left the stool, and said: "I just heard that your principal is here, as the student's father, I think I should visit Let's talk about this Ms. Derwent... Speaking of which, he thought that Albus Dumbledore would be your next headmaster."

"Oh, Dumbledore is the headmaster," Tom shook his head. "Principal Dairis Dewent is the old headmaster of Hogwarts hundreds of years ago. I just went to visit her portrait."

"portrait?"

"Some wizards with higher achievements or wealth will leave their portraits to communicate with future generations, and they can be considered to have survived in another way."

"Magic...it's amazing," Old Tom's buttocks returned to the stool. "After I was able to get out of bed a while ago, I found that the house is almost the same every day. The housekeeper will buy some gadgets that have something to do with magic, and they It's not even popular in London anymore."

"Even if there is no magic, the world is different every day. At least when I return to London every year during the holidays, everything here feels strange to me."

"Yeah..." Old Tom sighed, and he was a little concerned about Tom's life, "I know you lived in school most of the time before you graduated, and you can go to the West City Orphanage during the holidays, but now Where do you live? Can Laura come home after she graduates?"

"Gnar's uncle and aunt left him a house, and I live in a room on the second floor, and I will live there during the school holidays," Tom said, looking at Christian, who looked a little better, " As for her, I suggest you better ask her what she thinks, I used to like to make decisions for her, but now that I think about it, I might be wrong."

"You are more like a qualified father than me."

"Hehe, father is not a job. How can there be any qualified or unqualified ones?"

"I'll go and see that Aibo first," Tom stood up, pressed his right hand falsely, and declined the old Tom who wanted to stand up and see him off, "You...stay here with Christian, she is closer to you Some."