My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort Chapter 455

"Why are you doing this?"

Dumbledore stepped forward quickly, stopped the wizard who had driven out the old craftsman, and glared at him.

"Who are you?" The wizard picked his nose and winked at the man who was blocking his way. He looked at the man for a while, then suddenly raised his eyebrows, "Professor Dumbledore?"

"you know me?"

"Who doesn't know you?" The wizard acted like a rascal or a local rascal, pursed his lips, showing his foul-smelling yellow teeth, "I was the second one to teach when you returned to school. It's normal that you don't have an impression of me after graduating in 2018."

"I have a student like you?" Dumbledore narrowed his eyes and carefully looked at the man in front of him. He really couldn't connect his figure with the green teenagers in his memory. He pursed his lips and asked softly. ,"What's your name?"

"Me?" The wizard pointed at himself with an exaggerated expression, "Are you talking about me?"

Dumbledore nodded silently.

"My name is Edward, Edward Foley." The wizard looked flattered, but not too confident that Dumbledore would recognize him, "you don't have to remember who I am, Professor, a busy man like you. There's no need to keep memories on someone like me."

"Edward?"

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, and a burly young man appeared in front of him. He often walked around the Quidditch court with his precious broomstick. Dumbledore remembered that the kid was still Slater. Lin, the goalkeeper of the year, once dyed his black hair green to celebrate Slytherin's victory.

He shook his head, a little dazed in front of his eyes. The wizard's out-of-shape figure overlapped with the young man in his memory. He widened his left and right sides by more than a little bit, but his height did not change much, but became more humble due to the curvature of his back. He was short, and his messy half-length hair didn't even need to be dyed, but also showed a moss-like green color, as if his scalp had become moldy because he hadn't washed his hair for too long. The growth covered his oil-stained neckline, and he was wearing ordinary old clothes, and he couldn't tell when he washed it last time.

His body was filled with a fermented stench of alcohol, low-quality tobacco, and some ore powder. Dumbledore frowned and said softly, "Edward? The Edward who dyed his hair green?"

"You still remember me!"

Edward shouted and stared at Dumbledore with wide eyes, and the mere fact of being recognized was enough to make him ecstatic.

"I remember you were a relative of Welfare and got a job in the sports department on his recommendation...why-"

Dumbledore did not go further, but the second half of the sentence was already obvious.

"Professor, don't you know that my uncle fell a long time ago?"

The happy look on Edward's face disappeared instantly, his eyebrows were lowered, and he didn't seem to continue the topic.

"I remember you got good grades on the NEWTs exam, and it wouldn't be anyhow—"

"Professor," Edward took the initiative to interrupt Dumbledore this time. He raised his eyebrows, poked his forehead, caught a flea from his hair and crushed it on his fingertips, and said in a somewhat mean tone, "Eat Fully clothed, and drinking every day... I know what you're talking about, with my transcript with only one O at the top, I can indeed find a job, but it's just in which store I'm going to be called to drink. Apprentice, I came from the ministry, how can I do this kind of work?"

"Isn't it better than you are now? I don't understand." Dumbledore shook his head.

"A **** helping people with those toad skins, mantis eyeballs? That's ridiculous, professor, there are so many people waiting to see my ignorant Uncle Foley's jokes, am I going to stay in Diagon Alley? Do you maintain that ridiculous decency and be pitied and ridiculed by old acquaintances passing by?" Edward gritted his teeth and squeezed his accusation from between his teeth, "I don't want that, to be able to be in Lord Malfoy's house. A pure-blooded dog is also good, he can bully the poor people I may become every day, and the salary is not cheap, just obedient and baring his teeth at impolite guests."

Dumbledore was aware that this once noble, high-spirited, promising young man had become a bad thug, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for the failure of his education, even though Edward, who was nearly graduating at the time, was not well received by him. How much teaching.

"Did you see that old man? That bereaved dog, he had four O's on his graduation transcript back then, but he's still being called to and fro. Mudbloods are like this, they're precarious, and they only deserve to live in a bridge hole. If I did as you say when my uncle fell, I wouldn't be much better off than the Mudblood," Edward said with a mocking expression, mocking Dumbledore's ignorant ignorance of the rules, "Oh, By the way, congratulations, I heard Lord Malfoy say that you will be the chief of Wizengamot today."

Dumbledore didn't speak, just sighed.

"It will be better for us in the future, Professor," Edward raised his eyebrows smugly. "When the equipment imported from the great Nurmengard is fully installed, the people working in this block will only need to be able to wave like baboons. The magic wand is enough. There are as many wizards as you want. No one dares to be disobedient. Some people want to squeeze out the guys inside and join in. I no longer have to please those guys who think they have some craftsmanship like I did before. At that time, it's up to me here, and when you come back, I can invite you to drink in my spacious office."

Dumbledore shook his head again. Everything Edward said was no different from what Shafik had speculated. He closed his eyes in pain and wanted to see if there was any way to save them, but these powerful pure-blood wizards Their astonishing efficiency in the face of Galleon and Edward's twisted speech made Dumbledore feel that if everything here went according to Nelson's choreography, it would be a good result.

"That's what those people often say, Muggles played it through hundreds of years ago, but are wizards still ignorant of the trick? It's just a bit too cruel, isn't it? I don't know what can be done here. Can't bear the pain?" Dumbledore rubbed his temples, feeling a headache, "They won't sit still, and then these thugs may be able to play their role."

"What?" Edward did not understand Dumbledore.

"Just talking to yourself, I hope you have a good future." Dumbledore smiled and patted him on the shoulder, turned and left the ruins.

"Wizards can easily get everything with a wand, so they forget an important truth," the penguin beamed to Aberforth, who was sitting across from him in a Muggle restaurant in London, wrapped in a scarf. The cook brought the hot pie, and the penguin stopped the topic, tapped the table politely, and nodded, "Thank you, miss."

The cook had never seen such a well-dressed big man come to her restaurant, so she blushed and ran away quickly.

"What's the point?" Aberforth looked at the back of the cook who was leaving, and whistled, which made her nervous pace quicker, "Excuse me, can you give me half of this pie? I'm getting hungry soon. died."

"As you wish, Mr. Gatsby." Penguin blinked, pushed the pie in front of him towards Aberforth, and continued, "The truth is that no matter what you get, you have to pay a price, etc. Price exchange is the eternal truth of this world. Plants need to donate fruits after obtaining nutrients from soil, water and air. Animals need to donate their meat after eating these fruits. Buying things requires money and money. Work is needed, and Muggles figured it out way before us."

"Is it really?"

"I didn't expect you to understand this kind of truth!" Penguin clapped his hands in surprise, startling Aberforth, who was gorging on pie. When he almost choked on pie, a glass of water was handed to him. on hand.

"I didn't say anything?! Did I just say something big without realizing it?"

He gulped down the water and stroked his chest, saying that Aberforth felt that he was a charismatic and easy-going figure when he wasn't facing either Dumbledore or Grindelwald, but that wasn't enough The famous penguin opened his eyes and talked nonsense.

"Question is the truth, Mr. Gatsby," said Penguin with a wink and a smile, "I've asked adults this question before, and in my opinion, there are very few real equivalent exchanges in the Muggle world. , do you know what he told me?"

"Your lord... what did he say?"

"He said, just like wizards are used to getting something for nothing, Muggles often don't get paid for their hard work, and they buy overpriced goods when they spend their paycheck, just take the pie you're eating. For example, every bite of yours is a hefty rent, taxes, a store-inflated premium for something that's full of premiums, and it costs nothing more than the cook's labor, the farmer's planting, and... well, it's supposed to be apple pie Well...and the care of the apples by the growers."

"It's the Apple," Aberforth said sadly, realizing that this was the only question he could answer. He shook his head and said, "In this way, Muggles are more unfair than wizards."

"Really? Mr. Gatsby."

"You'd better call me Mr. Dumbledore," Aberforth said, looking like he had eaten a raw bitter gourd. He blinked and said, "Since you have investigated so clearly."

"Okay, Mr. Gatsby," Penguin shrugged and continued, "Wizards really don't have to pay too much for living, because they can get it for nothing, enlarging spells, quick-living spells, and all kinds of potions. It has created an illusion of harmony for us for thousands of years. If you tear off those coats that can be easily mass-produced with magic, what is left under our world?"

Aberforth fell silent. He wasn't stupid. On the contrary, he was smart enough to realize that, compared to Muggles, wizards were still stuck in the Middle Ages.

"My lord once tried to solve these stubborn diseases, but he soon realized that these rotten things are bound to a more rotten social structure, and only by overthrowing the so-called power passed down by the nobility from generation to generation, can a better mansion be rebuilt from the ruins. "We just have to tell the wizards in England that there are free Galleons here, and they'll swarm like shit-smelling dingoes, and they'll throw away everything they need to survive," said Penguin smugly. For immediate benefits, they will be much more efficient than you think, and if you go to Diagon Alley now, the last magic workshop may be collapsing."

"Yes?"

"Yes," the penguin nodded conclusively, "it is much easier to destroy than to rebuild, and when they are used to everything in the magic factory, they will become a dispensable nail on our conveyor belt, and then master the Technology and pricing power, and people who have the power at the same time, will reshape this decaying world with their own hands, and we will usher in the light."

Aberforth could hardly listen to Penguin's words. He just wanted to find Dumbledore quickly and tell him the appalling news, but he suddenly realized a serious question, why Penguin was so frank, and whether he had done a good job Are you ready to imprison yourself?

"Is it really all right for you to tell me so much?" Aberforth asked cautiously, holding the wand in his sleeve.

"No problem," Penguin smiled and spread out his hands, "The lord said that you are his friend, I think his friend must have the wisdom to distinguish right from wrong, not to mention... This has already happened, isn't it? It's like history Like, it's impossible to stop its heavy wheels."

"I know you want to go to Professor Dumbledore to share what you have seen and heard today, but you'd better think about it for yourself, at least I think Professor Dumbledore will also recognize it."

Aberforth pursed his lips and did not speak. After a long silence, he raised his head and asked, "What is Grindelwald doing? I don't believe he would be so kind."

"You made a mistake," Penguin smiled and shook his head, "My lord is Lord Wilttening."

"I have a movie ticket here, Mr. Dumbledore," Penguin took out a piece of colored paper from his arms and put it in front of Aberforth, stood up, and turned to leave, "Of course, this is just an insignificant leisure time, then, We're going to show something new enough to make the world a better place, and I think you'll love it."

Aberforth nodded blankly until the figure of the penguin appeared in front of him again, and Aberforth nervously raised his wand and pointed it at the penguin.

I saw Penguin unhurriedly took out an envelope and put it on the table: "My lord has said that he is going to find you, maybe you are willing to help me bring a letter there?"

Aberforth nodded, and the penguin disappeared.

Chapter end