My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort

"Have you ever thought that no one cares about your **** darling, and got you here because you've got the wrong guy," Tom gently pulled his wand out of Harriman's twitching hand Take it down, "The Cruciatus is well used, your heart is full of hatred, you want to torture me, even kill me, right?"

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Harriman's eyes widened in horror, and Tom repeated his thoughts almost exactly, when exactly? Have you been prying into your heart? What kind of legitimacy is this? Harriman instinctively wanted to reconstruct Occlumency, but the more flustered he was, the more uncontrollable thoughts that should have appeared in his mind came to his mind, as if a pair of incomparably delicate hands had precisely torn apart his body. Heart, he used a red pen to outline the important paragraphs hidden under his **** memory as if taking notes.

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

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"Have you ever thought that you would sit in the position of the people you tortured on weekdays?" Tom clapped his hands, waving Harriman's wand, and snakes came out of the tip of the wand and quickly shattered, at such a high frequency Under the pressure of the magic spell, the already overwhelmed wand whined, "Are you still obsessed with those rags that are so ridiculous that you can't laugh? If you don't speak, the next thing may be that you can't. accepted."

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Harriman tightly closed his eyes and mouth, trying to physically cut off Tom's Legilimency, even if he knew it was futile, but there was nothing he could do.

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"Oh? No wonder you know so much about the wizards in the UK, and have anyone specially trained them?"

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Harriman's wand spun lightly at Tom's fingertips, turning out beautiful arcs. Although the wand was taken away, the pain of the Cruciatus was still strong, and even intensified. Harriman struggled to lift it. At the beginning, he met Tom's eye-catching eyes that were as black as black holes. In the depths of this blackness, he saw a blood color that was countless times more cruel and ruthless than him. There is no blood in this young man's body, but the restless madness of the source of his magic power is so shocking. Although it is treacherous and terrifying, this power still has an upright aura. Why is there no blood debt on his body? Can a man possess the spirit of a devil? Harriman didn't know the source and cause of this paradoxical appearance, and what remained in his mind was the useless panic of the time-tested insight in the past.

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Like a well-behaved student who recites a text, Tom recites Harriman's memories hidden deep in his memory and unwilling to touch in a holding tone.

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"I think the name 'Hanoverian Vampire' sounds much better than Fritz Harriman. Why don't you keep using it?"

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

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"Seven years, twenty-seven people, how did you manage to be so average, so random? Your tastes are really perverted," Tom said after thinking for a moment, "I'm just saying how you look more and more familiar, when I was young I heard your story, a famous German murderer, but I remember that you were executed in 1925. No wonder, you are a wizard, so who is the head stored in the basement of the University of Göttingen? "

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At first, Harriman just felt terrified. It was a little uncomfortable to have such memories being manipulated indiscriminately, 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 the old things that even he himself had deliberately forgotten. He had long forgotten why he became like this, but at Tom's prompt, he had to recall painfully.

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"The first time you were charged was when you were sixteen? Gee, I would have been saddened for a long time when I was sixteen for breaking school rules," Tom said, getting a little tired from his squatting. He stood up and looked at a piece of Carrion looked down at the incoherent man, "Oh, you're accused of killing a railroad worker who found out about your child abuse, and it was your father who reported it to the police, I can't imagine what you did. What makes your father hate you so much... I'm curious, why would a sixteen-year-old wizard only dare to attack children?"

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

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

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Tom grabbed Harriman's hair and lifted him to the same height as himself. His eyes opened a path leading to the depths of Harriman's soul, and he tore Harriman's consciousness and fell together, falling to the place where the mind and magic power A forbidden area that is blocked by layers.

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Harriman just wanted to get out of this terrifyingly repressed place, Tom's recitation with quick comments was better than all the punishments and reproaches he had ever seen, and he had worked so hard for many years, costing one life after another. The piled serious shell was shattered little by little by these casual words, revealing curled up in the depths of the shell, the shivering boy who stayed at the age of eleven, naked and wearing a dirty railroad worker's coat. , squatting helplessly in the corner and sobbing, a shirtless man sat at the head of the bed, smoking inferior tobacco with a greasy pipe, and flicking soot onto him from time to time with a grin.

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"It tastes good, right? Boy?"

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Tom let go of his hand, and Harriman's body fell limply. On the edge of collapse, he saw Tom's lips opening and closing from the corner of his eye: "It tastes good, right? Boy."

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

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"You put your father's head there? Seriously, I thought I hated my irresponsible father enough to never think about such a thing."

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"You want to drag the most stable Britain into the chaotic vortex of Prussia... I have to say, a group of rabble has a bit of a strategic vision, but what do you want to infiltrate? With money? Or use that kind of nervousness , To tempt normal people who have already embarked on a civilized life in the days when they are ruddy and drinking?"

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"Tsk... Nurmengard?"

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Tom tutted lightly and fell into silence. After a long while, he looked down at Harriman, raised his hand, and a small green snake slipped out of his cuff, coiled around his fingertips, curled his body, and then like a spring. It jumped like a **** and jumped to the top of Harriman's head. It searched for a moment in its hair, found its direction, and nimbly climbed to Harriman's forehead, opened a large mouth disproportionate to its body, and provoked it with sharp fangs. the eyelid of his right eye.

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Tom watched this scene silently, only to see the little snake gently licking Hariman's turbid eyeballs with a letter. The eyelid fangs still remained solid, and the green magic power wrapped a mass of inhuman souls, and pierced Harriman's eyeballs abruptly.

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This process should be accompanied by severe pain, but Harriman, who had collapsed in his mind, could no longer feel the pain, or could not give corresponding feedback to the pain. As the magic deepened, Harriman's body was as strange as a snake. Twisting, his left eye suddenly widened, and his left hand struggled to resist the next encounter, but his right hand slowly lifted, holding down the disorderly dancing left hand, the corners of his mouth showed contradictions, like crying Smiling face.

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Looking at the person whose expression was collapsing, and even his soul was about to collapse, Tom's throat suddenly felt a disgusting discomfort, he retched and tapped his forehead hard. In the process of destroying a person, he felt the pleasure. He was immersed in this high-level judgment, immersed in the enjoyment of wanton playing with his soul, and this change of mentality was unknown to him for a long time before, until now just reacted.

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

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Gu Zan </span>…

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In the dirty alley, Credence's body had fallen to the ground, and the only remaining silent magic power lost its restraint, quickly nibbling away his lifeless body, seeing a black flame about to rise to the ground. When he started, Tom Riddle sneered, and the dazzling green light poured out from the tip of the staff, pinning the unformed monster in place.

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He raised his head and took a deep breath, what a charming breath! It's power, it's power, it's eternal life!

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He was immersed in his power like the creator, playing with the malicious silence, the monster feared by thousands of people on weekdays was as soft and fragile as plasticine under his spell, and he spelled it with the body of silence. Come up with his own name - Tom Marvolo Riddle.

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"I hate this ordinary name."

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He frowned and waved, the letters alternately changing positions with his movements, eventually becoming a brand new word - Voldemort.

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…

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"It's him again."

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Tom clenched his teeth and cursed while clutching his temples whose blood vessels were throbbing. Since Nelson received the box from Dumbledore, he could always see this damned self.

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"The Horcrux, silently... Can't you try a little power that has no side effects?"

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But soon, the figure in the alley was twisted and deformed, the hair fell off, and the facial features were deformed, becoming the appearance that Nelson showed him this morning.

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Tom chuckled, and the Voldemort again took that funny pose and let out a "hehehe" laugh.

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

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Tom took a deep breath, his beating heart returned to calm, his forehead was covered in 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 hold on to it. Obsessed with **** that's too ridiculous to laugh at?"

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

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The man in the mirror raised his head, the figure in the alley disappeared, and Tom's eyes returned to the room under Diagon Alley again.

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…

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Harriman is raising his upper body in a cobra-like posture, his right eye bitten by a poisonous snake is filled with green light, just like Ludwig's grandfather once looked like, Harriman huddled in the corner of his left eye, his body Covers the old railroad worker's clothes.

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"Weakness is not an excuse for you to vent to weaker people."

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

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"Harriman" nodded, his bent lower body gradually straightened, returning to his human posture.

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"I'll stare at you," Tom said nonchalantly, and the serpentine teeth on Harriman's eyelids burst into his eyes, "whatever you ever wanted to do, now I just want to watch those who want to borrow Following Gnar's dream, the rat generation of Chen Cang's secret plan was ruined."

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

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

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

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"The influence of black magic on the mind is imperceptible, but why can I perceive its erosion on me every time?" Tom shook his head, at least for him, this was no longer a problem, he lowered his head, He took out a small silver ball from his pocket, raised it to his mouth and asked, "Where are you?"

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