Hogwarts: I, Tom, am really not Voldemort!

“Tom, why aren't you chanting along? Professor Lockhart has looked at you several times.”

Seeing Tom staring blankly at the Cornish Pixie in front of him, Draco kindly reminded him in a low voice.

“Do you think I need to practice the Cruciatus Curse?”

Tom felt that Draco had asked such a stupid question, and he really didn't know how Lucius had taught him.

But thinking that he, as a good student, should set an example, especially not to lose face in front of this inscrutable 'Gilderoy Lockhart', so…

“Crucio!”

Unlike the young wizards who were still struggling to get started, Tom's Cruciatus Curse immediately caused the Cornish Pixie to emit the most miserable scream in the entire classroom, and it became dying in a moment.

The young wizards who witnessed all this couldn't help but shudder, and Draco realized what a stupid question he had asked.

“Clap… clap… clap…”

Just as the entire classroom fell silent, a burst of applause suddenly rang out. Lockhart was seen clapping while looking at Tom with admiring eyes.

“Perfect Cruciatus Curse, ten points to Slytherin.”

Whether it was stimulated by Tom, or it was just a natural rebellious streak, the little snakes of Slytherin and the little eagles of Ravenclaw burst out with twelve points of enthusiasm in the following practice, and even showed a strange excited smile on their faces. For a time, the miserable screams of the Cornish Pixies continued to sound in the classroom.

If Professor Flitwick knew about this, it is estimated that this old professor would scold people. Usually, when learning spells in Charms class, you are not so active. Now, in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, practicing Unforgivable Curses is like being injected with chicken blood. What do you want to do, play with him?

The young wizards would not consider Professor Flitwick's mood after knowing about it. Now, for them, if Tom's teaching of the Killing Curse is not counted, this is the best Defense Against the Dark Arts class they have ever had, bar none.

Until the bell rang for the end of class, the young wizards were still unsatisfied, and even took the initiative to take away the Cornish Pixie in front of them, and go back to continue practicing hard.

“Of course, children, by the way, this Defense Against the Dark Arts class of mine has no papers or exams. Next class, I will check your Cruciatus Curse practice results. There will be rewards for those who practice well.”

After Lockhart announced this, the little snakes and little eagles' eyes changed when they looked at him. At this moment, a golden halo seemed to appear above Lockhart's head, forming a sharp contrast with the image of a certain fellow surnamed Riddle named Tom.

‘Professor Lockhart is a good person!’

At this moment, the young wizards reached a rare consensus.

As the young wizards left the classroom one after another, Tom sent Cassandra and the others away first, and stayed alone to wait for Lockhart.

“Mr. Riddle, is there anything else?”

Lockhart, who had packed up his things, saw Tom staying alone in the classroom and asked with a smile.

“There is indeed something I want to talk to you about, Professor, about who you really are.”

Tom didn't hide it and went straight to the point. Moreover, Tom had some guesses in his mind about the person in front of him, but the answer was too outrageous to be sure.

“About who I am, that is indeed a good question.” Lockhart did not directly answer Tom, but took out his pocket watch and glanced at it, “It's lunchtime now, why not join me for lunch?”

After speaking, Lockhart left the classroom directly, and Tom followed without thinking.

Lockhart took Tom back to the office, asked the house-elf to bring two lunches, and took a sip of red wine before entering the topic.

“Long time no see, Tom. Last time, there was no chance to sit down and have lunch with you peacefully like this.”

Tom frowned slightly, thought it over carefully in his mind again, and shook his head in denial: “Sorry, Professor, I don't remember having contact with you before this semester, and now it is also the first time we are alone, or rather, you are not Professor Lockhart.”

Lockhart swallowed a small piece of steak in his mouth and said quietly: “Yes, Tom, in that Paris of 1927, it left a deep impression on me to this day.”

When Tom heard this, he almost spat out the pumpkin juice he had just taken into his mouth, and exclaimed: “That's impossible!”

A person who should not have appeared here, said something that should not have existed as soon as he opened his mouth. For Tom, the impact was still quite big.

“Calm down, child.” ‘Lockhart’ reached out and comforted Tom, “You want to say that history has not changed, right.”

Tom opened his mouth, but did not make a sound, obviously being told by ‘Lockhart’.

“Indeed, the history of this world has not changed. Just think of an old man having a dream, a dream about another space-time.”

Hearing ‘Lockhart’ say it so bluntly, Tom almost understood. Probably everything that happened in the space-time brought by the practical crystallization was perceived by someone in the form of a dream, so there was such a scene.

After understanding this, Tom calmed down again, looked directly at ‘Lockhart’ and said: “I see, then what are you here for, could it be that you are dissatisfied, Mr. Gellert Grindelwald.”

Grindelwald's movement of cutting the steak suddenly stopped. This was the first time he had experienced the power of Tom's broken mouth outside the dream, and he suddenly felt a little sorry for Dumbledore. Albus, you have worked hard.

After a moment of silence, Grindelwald slowly said: “It's just that this old man wants to see Dumbledore's favorite student named Tom Riddle before he dies.”

It was this kind of reason that even Ron wouldn't believe, similar to his old lover. Tom silently expressed his contempt for him in his heart.

Then he stopped struggling with this topic. After all, the fox's tail will always be revealed. As for now, Tom is quite interested in another person: “Then, Professor Grindelwald, I wonder what you did to Gilderoy Lockhart?”

“Gilderoy Lockhart, I took good care of him.”

Nurmengard, the high tower.

A thin old man was desperately patting the prison door: “Let me out, where is this, do you know who I am? I have won the Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Anti-Dark Arts League, and five-time winner of the Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, internationally renowned writer—Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Hearing this, Lockhart beat the prison door even harder: “No, you can't do this, I am Gilderoy Lockhart, not Gellert Grindelwald, let me out!”

Unfortunately, Lockhart's actions only attracted a burst of laughter, and the guards at the door seemed to believe that he was Gellert Grindelwald.

And the guard who spoke to Lockhart at this moment took out a Saint's badge from his arms and shook it in front of him: “For the Greater Good, what do you say, Mr. Lockhart.”

At this moment, Lockhart's face was completely ashen.

And the guard obviously didn't intend to let him go like this: “Given that you are so noisy, I don't mind sending you a small gift.”

“Obliviate!”