My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

"Don't struggle, shhh, soon."

In the dim temple, Nelson's voice echoed, creating an atmosphere of a horror story. The temple was surrounded by thick wool felt, and even a trace of light would not enter it. The priestess declared that this was an ongoing A ritual to seek an oracle from Apollo to dispel the gloom.

This rhetoric was approved by most city-state residents. When the dementors approached, most of the Muggles had lost consciousness. In the dive of the dragon, the only ones who were awake also lost consciousness because of fear , when they woke up, all they saw were the ruins ravaged by natural disasters and the dark clouds gradually receding during the temple ceremony. Those wizards who witnessed everything would naturally not expose the crisis that just happened, even after Nelson swaggered Walking from the street far away, they just stood aside and watched indifferently when they collected the dragon's blood spilled on the ground and the crow feathers dropped by the wizard in front of them.

Nelson's gaze has never communicated with these people at all. In his opinion, they are worse than those muggles who lost consciousness under the pressure of dementors. Remaining silent during the blame, not disclosing Nelson's existence, and remaining silent when Nelson came to clean up the mess, just drifting with the flow and betting on both ends.

After collecting all the things the wizard left here, holding the small silver ball that had just captured the dementor, he apparated into the Temple of Apollo, and after simply obtaining the consent of Pythia, he started Create a suitable environment. .

The only light source in the temple came in from the gap in the center of the roof that Nelson roughly blasted open with a spell. After being reflected by several mirrors erected in mid-air, it focused on the stone bed in the center of the temple.

A silver falcon full of determination hovered beside the stone bed, a pair of torch-like eyes stared unblinking at the small silver ball that was slowly opening under the control of Nelson's wand.

The cold moisture immediately filled the temple, causing the surrounding stone pillars to tremble. A thick black mist, like long hair tangled together, was squeezed out from the crack of the small silver ball, and the sound was enough to rupture the eardrums. The shriek of the silver falcon fluttered its wings, and the silvery feathers shot out like arrows. Before the black mist that rushed towards Nelson was formed, it penetrated its rotten and rotten body. Robe, firmly nailing it to the stone bed.

For a while, the silent temple was covered by fierce cutting sounds. When the sound dissipated, Pythia, who had already hid behind the pillar, poked her head out carefully, and saw a limb and throat pierced by silver falcon feathers, lying on the stone bed. A dementor that couldn't stop struggling, with black mist constantly bursting from its body, but was quickly dispelled by the surrounding white mist.

She covered her mouth and stared wide-eyed. As a person who has been harassed by dementors all year round, she certainly knew what it was. It is a hole that is pierced. The feathers shot by the silver falcon penetrate the hard stone and penetrate deeply into the ground, turning into clusters of warm silver light, blending into the dense white mist floating around Nelson.

She stared at the white mist curiously, stretched out her hand, and lightly touched a wisp of mist drifting towards her, her eyes widened even further.

"This is……"

Pythia just wanted to say that this mist has similar characteristics to the "fog of prophecy" floating from the cracks in the underground rocks of the Temple of Apollo, but Silver Falcon turned his head and glanced at her lightly, and she immediately closed her eyes. mouth, realizing that what Nelson was doing could not be interrupted, so he had to swallow the second half of the sentence back to his stomach.

The eyes of the dementor shot at Nelson from under the hood, and Nelson showed a surprised expression on his face, which was completely different from the dementors he was familiar with. After two thousand years, those dementors stationed in Azkaban Only the instinct of killing and destruction, and the hatred of life rooted in the soul, if they still have souls.

But the current dementor shows a lot of emotions, including hatred, tyranny, warning and even fear. Its eyes are full of things that shouldn't belong to it, and it doesn't even have magical power like the future dementor. The single cold silence, on the contrary, looks like a real dark wizard, chaotic and heterogeneous.

Nelson tilted his head. At the moment when they looked at each other, he actually felt a cursed sting. He raised his wand, and the patron saint suspended above the heads of a person and a ghost dissipated in the spread of wings, and re-condensed in front of Nelson. , holding a wriggling green mist under its powerful claws, it crushed the cursed magic power with a light pinch.

Dementors do not have vocal organs in the usual sense, but Nelson can still hear bursts of "hissing" sounds that resemble Parseltongue but seem to squeeze air out of teeth. Beneath the face firmly concealed by the hood.

"Hush," Nelson stretched out his free left hand, and lifted a wisp of white mist in front of his face. The white mist quickly condensed into a silver glove covering the entire hand in his palm, and stretched towards the dementor's head. He lifted its hood, "Don't bark, it will be over soon, bear with it."

His tone was very soft, like a doctor gently reading a doctor's order to a patient, but his hand movements were not so calm.

Nelson was already mentally prepared to see the face of the dementor. He was lucky enough to witness it once a long time ago, but after lifting the hood of the dementor, his movements froze and he froze. in front of the bed.

The roar of the dementor became harsher, and the killing intent contained in the voice became more intense. Nelson narrowed his eyes, and a mayfly with a charcoal pencil on its tail quickly wrote on a blank papyrus supported by two other mayflies. paint its face.

Unlike the dementor that lived in Azkaban two thousand years later, whose ugliness could not be described in words, the one in front of him was more like a person, a person who was corrupted by death but somehow did not die.

The wrinkled, gray skin is covered with jet-black mold spots, and the outline of a human face can be vaguely seen. In the half-closed eye sockets that have lost the function of opening and closing, the dense black soaked by death forms a cloud covering the eyeballs. Nelson couldn't even tell if there were eyeballs under the shadows.

A cold light flashed in Nelson's hand, and a sharp knife condensed in the palm of his hand. The knife cut down from the feather nailed in the middle of the throat to the position of the navel. The rotten robe could not resist the implicated With the magic knife of the patron saint, its robe and the flesh underneath were cut open, and the pungent rancid smell gushed out, which was quickly blocked by a transparent barrier.

In addition to blocking the stench and possible poisonous miasma, this barrier also shoulders the mission of focusing the light. Nelson lowered his head and carefully observed the internal structure of the dementor.

It is completely a living shell, Nelson's forehead is throbbing, his face is full of shock, those organs that can be removed have been discarded, as a living thing, it can't survive normally at all, and can only rely on magic power to continue His own existence was engraved in fine runes on its loose and fragile bones like a sponge, and Nelson guessed its purpose after only translating a few characters—the curse, the most vicious in the world, would not be released even after two years A curse that no Dark wizard can hold up to.

This dementor has a structure similar to that of a human, but all its life-related parts have been taken away, and replaced by a curse that orders it to last forever in the pain of death, and the runes on the bones serve as its internal organs , even the bone itself is only worth carrying the runes. It has been eroded infinitely by death, and there is no breath of life left on its body, but it is still alive, even if it is very old, even if its whole body rots, even if it eventually dies. The bones are broken and turned into a mass of inactive garbage. Even if it is eaten by rats and insects, it still exists.

In an instant, all kinds of evil magic items related to Haierbo appeared in front of Nelson. The most related to the situation of dementors were the two vicious magics of infernal corpses and horcruxes, but there was no doubt that dementors did not belong to Any one of them is more like a failed product born in the process of researching these two kinds of magic, and at the same time bears their terrifying side effects, but the only gain is to linger on as a puppet spreading despair, unable to survive, beg Can't die.

It seems to have been a human once, and it is unknown whether it offended Haierbo or ended up like this because of its allegiance. The pity in Nelson's eyes flashed, and was quickly replaced by firmness. Compared with the invulnerable dementor after two thousand years The structure, this semi-finished product can bring him more help - Haierbo's runes are clearly presented in front of his eyes, as an expert in ancient runes, even if he hasn't seen Haierbo himself until now, but Between the lines of these sentences, the image of an unscrupulous evil wizard has emerged in Nelson's mind, and Haierbo's favorite magic and his habit of using runes have also been meticulously recorded.

"I feel that there is something I must tell you, Pythia."

Nelson shot from left to right, and the silver knife left a cold glow on the joints of the dementor, dismantling the immobile big man little by little like a ding ding dispelling an ox. The dementor also kept it "alive" at the joints of the skin and flesh, and the integrated runes were still running stably.

"You... you said."

Seeing Nelson's brutal appearance, Pythia couldn't help but put on the honorifics.

"I understand what you think. You saw the end of Haierbo in the prophecy, and you also learned from the prophecy that we came from the future. I thought that Haierbo was defeated in the future anyway. I must know the correct answer. You just need to wait for me It’s enough to defeat him with the experience brought back from the future, isn’t it?”

Pythia didn't agree or object, she raised her trembling legs and moved towards Nelson step by step.

"I'm curious, Pythia, do you just believe in your prophecy?" Nelson continued to dissect the dementor without raising his head, "You don't worry that it might be wrong, it might be the same as you thought Is it different?"

"This is God's revelation." Pythia replied, "I have relied on prophecy to make decisions all my life, and I have never missed it."

"Which god?" Nelson put down the knife in his hand, raised his head, and stared at Pythia with indifferent but fiery eyes in his pupils, "Don't tell me it's Apollo, can you call your god Jean Is he coming to see me?"

Pythia pursed her lips and shook her head vigorously.

"I can tell you the future I know. Although they are composed of legends, unofficial histories, and fragments I saw in some ancient relics, they are undoubtedly much more real than your uncertain predictions," Nelson turned around. , facing Pythia, lowered his voice, "Do you dare to listen?"

Pythia lowered his head and buried his face in his chest. There was no response for a long time. Nelson smiled. The laughter was extremely piercing in the empty temple. He waited for half a minute, but Pythia still did not raise his head. Nelson I had no choice but to continue to turn to the dementor and continue his brutal dissection.

Time passed by, and apart from the tooth-piercing noise of the knife scratching the flesh and bones, there was only the ticking sound of Nelson's pocket watch in the temple, and Pythia didn't even dare to breathe. , the disappointment in Nelson's heart has accumulated to the limit. He really can't connect this cowardly woman who has been manipulated by the prophecy all her life with the hero who saved the peninsula in history. Erase her real achievements.

"The good news is that his alchemy is very poor." Nelson pulled out a black cloth and covered the dismembered dementor as a thank you for its contribution to world peace. He grabbed the notebook next to him and recorded it, from time to time He muttered a few words, "His research direction is more towards immortality and soul mastery. The aggressiveness of magic is not as exaggerated as imagined. Maybe this era doesn't need such powerful magic?"

The dementor had been cut into pieces on the bed, but it was still alive. Nelson took out a heart covered in black hair, which he found where it should have been a brain, and murmured, "Man The hairy heart of a witch..."

As the heart was taken out, the sub-freezing silence began to spread rapidly in the temple, and the filthy frost covered the pillars. Feeling the impact, Pythia sat down on the ground.

Nelson ignored her, and copied the rune on the hairy heart, which seemed to be the core part of the dementor, into the notebook word by word.

"Can you tell me?"

Pythia's voice was so low that Nelson thought it was a mosquito screaming for a moment. After Pythia repeated it loudly, he put down his hairy heart and turned his head to look at Pythia who was struggling to get up from the ground.

There was a firmness in her eyes that Nelson hadn't expected.

"Very good," Nelson didn't give her a chance to repent, white mist billowed in his eyes, and the moment they looked at each other, he pulled her into a pure white library, "You should be the hero who saves this era, you invented In order to resist Hai Erbo's spell, you found his horcruxes one by one, and sealed them in places that did not belong to this world. You left a prophecy about his resurrection and return, and what we are facing two thousand years later It is the stronger, more arrogant, and more unscrupulous despicable Hai Erbo, we are not the prophesied saviors, on the contrary, we are the ones who come to you for help in order to save our own world!"

"..."

"I don't know much about this era."

Nelson's pupils constricted, and he waved his wand. Pages of books with few writings flew out of the bookcases and fell into his hands. As he said, all the books about this era in these endless bookshelves The text is stacked together, and it is just a booklet thinner than the "British Cookbook", "But we have the same enemy, Pythia, if you just want to wait for fate to save you, maybe I will live in two thousand years The country will be called the Haierbo Empire."

"but--"

"I will tell you everything I know, and as you expected, Tom and I will save this era and ourselves in our own way," Nelson strode up to Pythia, stuffing the book in his hand. I gave it to her, "But your era needs to be saved by yourselves after all. Aren't you a prophet? Find a way to survive from the gap between what you see and what I tell you about the future. If we lose, everything will be over." .”

There was a loud dragon chant in the distance, and the illusion created by Nelson was shattered. Pythia lowered her head and looked at the booklet that smelled like ink in her hand.

Nelson turned his head to look in the direction from which Dragon Yin came from, and said, "Tom has already gone to find Hai Erbo, you...you can no longer use fate as an excuse and just run away blindly."