Hogwarts: I am Voldemort.

Chapter 42

"Thank you, Professor Quirrell, if it weren't for you, I really don't know what I would do."

At the entrance of the library, Miss Passionate bowed and said.

"This is what I should do. Hogwarts has never defaulted on my wages."

Voldemort's joke made Miss Know-it-all laugh again.

"Can I help you take the book back? As my thanks." After the laughter, Miss Passionate asked expectantly.

"I don't think so. I have to go to the kitchen to get some supper for myself." Voldemort blinked and said, "Those who stay up late should prepare food for themselves."

"Oh, that's fine, but thank you anyway, Professor Quirrell." As soon as Miss Passenger finished speaking, her stomach let out a growl.

"You haven't had dinner?" Voldemort asked curiously.

"I want to write my thesis quickly, so... I eat a little less." Miss Wanshitong said coyly.

She felt that she was really ashamed today, and she had a runny nose and a stomach growling.

"Then come with me to the kitchen, Hogwarts house elf, who is willing to serve us." Voldemort invited.

"Is this really possible?" Miss Know-it-All's eyes widened in disbelief, "I've only seen house elves in books."

Her focus, obviously, wasn't on hunger - as a new Muggle, that was a normal reaction.

"No problem, the whole school is serving the students, including us professors, isn't it?" Voldemort said, already walking towards the stairs.

"I'll help you with the book handle, Professor, and I want to thank you for that." Miss Know-It-All said following his steps.

"I want you to take it." Voldemort said with a smile, "but I'm afraid that there are too many books blocking your eyes, and we will have to go down the stairs in a while."

Miss Know-It-All was astonished for a moment, then glanced at the book held in Voldemort's hands, and reluctantly agreed with Voldemort's words.

"Then is it okay to take a few less books? As a thank you." Although she agreed, Miss Passionate still refused to give up.

"Of course, I'll give you a few copies then."

Voldemort said, turning his head away - he didn't even wave his wand, and a few books flew into Miss Know-it-all's hands.

"My God, Professor, you didn't use a wand? How did you do that?" asked Miss Know-It-All.

"Casting spells without a stick, and casting spells without a spell, you can't learn until you are in senior grade, and you can't do it now." He said in his mouth, but he sighed helplessly in his heart.

He can only use these two skills in some simple magic, and his talent limits him, even if Quirrell has stable and powerful magic power in his body, it will not help.

"What grade do you want, Professor?" Miss Passionate asked curiously.

Voldemort replied as he led her down the stairs, and then into a wide stone corridor underground, where they saw many Hufflepuff students.

A little further on, they stopped in front of a picture of a silver bowl full of fruit.

"Tickle the pear, Hermione, that's the way to open the door," said Voldemort.

"How do you know my name, Professor?" Hermione asked, repeating as she did.

"I attended your sorting ceremony, Hermione. There are only a few dozen freshmen from the four colleges. I remember everyone's names." Voldemort explained.

Hermione was stunned, then grabbed the green handle turned into a pear, and pulled it away:

A kitchen as big as the auditorium appeared before them, and at the end of the line of sight was a large fireplace, and between them and the fireplace were hundreds of busy house-elves.

"It's too big here." Hermione was surprised. "Is this a house-elf?"

Her voice disturbed the busy elves. They stood still and looked at the door together—at first they looked at Hermione, but they were soon attracted by Voldemort.

"Professor Quirrell, are you here to look for me?" A small man jumped out and asked in surprise.

"Yes, Dawa, I need you."

Voldemort nodded and said, "We need a new summoning ceremony, is that all right?"

Putting the book on the ground, Voldemort snapped his fingers with a "snap".

"Of course, Dawa is willing to serve you at any time." The little elf bent down so hard that his head was almost on the ground.

"Very well, Dawa, I need you to give me two midnight snacks, send them to..."

Voldemort looked at Hermione, but Hermione didn't understand what he was going to do.

"Send it to my office," he said finally.

"Okay, Professor Quirrell, your two suppers will arrive soon, and I will prepare your favorite sausage and cake for you."

After Dawa finished speaking, he immediately apparated, flashed to the stove not far away, and began to get busy for Voldemort's supper.

"Come on, Hermione, if you go in, their enthusiasm will overwhelm you." After Voldemort whispered in Hermione's ear, he bent down and picked up his book.

Hermione closed the door obediently, but kept looking at the world inside curiously, until the kitchen door was completely closed, and then followed Voldemort's footsteps out of the stone corridor.

"They don't get paid, do they?" Hermione pressed Voldemort on her short legs. "Wizards are enslaving house-elves, aren't they?"

"You can say that, but if you want to know more, you can take a look at [Hogwarts - A School History], which records in detail how Ms. Hufflepuff rescued them."

"This is not a rescue, professor. In the Muggle world, people have achieved freedom and equality." Hermione said proudly.

Voldemort kept walking, just turned his head and gave her a strange look.

"What I said is true." Hermione said hurriedly, fearing that Voldemort would not believe it.

"I'm also from the Muggle world, Hermione, you can't fool me." Voldemort said with a smile.

This made Hermione stunned. She didn't expect that the professors of Hogwarts College were of Muggle origin like her.

"Discrimination is everywhere. You can look at Martin Luther King's 'I Have a Dream'. His dream has not yet been fully realized." Voldemort said with a curled lip.

Hermione silently memorized Voldemort's words, but she still felt a little dissatisfied in her heart - at the age of 11, she had never seen discrimination, and knowledge always grows with age.

"My father said that discrimination had been eradicated, that black people had the right to be free, that England was a democratic..."

"Democracy is just political rhetoric, boy, class divisions will always exist, that's the immutable fact."

Voldemort stopped and looked at Hermione, "Restraining yourself and not letting yourself look down on others is already a great accomplishment, not everyone can do it."

The little girl wanted to refute, but she couldn't find a good reason. She was too young, and even in the Muggle world, she didn't know too many advanced things.

And facing the professor, she was born at a disadvantage, but she was still dissatisfied in her heart.

"Tell me in my office, boy, this is not a place for discussion." Voldemort said, and stepped up the stairs first.

Hermione followed closely behind, with flames burning in her eyes—this little guy who liked to argue about right and wrong seemed ready to fight.

(End of this chapter)