[Harry Potter] When Tom Riddle Thought He Was an Alien

Quality and quantity go hand in hand! The characters who come from different colleges but gather around the protagonist invariably are all written with distinct personalities. . . So far, apart from the undoubted protagonist, my favorite characters are McKinnon and Isaac... Let me talk about Isaac first of all. This feeling of tracing back the bloodline of ancestors for three thousand years is so taboo, so curious, so disgusting, and I love it! What is the difference between writing a character like a cultist (or dark wizard) who burns himself like a candle to light up the path of taboo research, and a Xerin film...??? McKinnon is a perfect example of a girl. . . . I quite appreciate the Gryffindor spirit that would rather die than surrender but would be impressed by a drop of tears. On the contrary, the action of joining the gang rather than staying in the isolation area really shocked me. This guy is also quite crazy. He is definitely not an ordinary person who can stay with the protagonist. . . .

It's even, this work is very worthy of leaving a long comment. We are all beggars of words. Although this book is not long in length, it can already be ranked in the top three of my favorite HP fans. If I see more content later, I might rank it with a certain fan. Looking forward to it. Another work gave me the feeling of extreme sensibility, and I was completely immersed in feelings while watching it. This book is like the extreme of rationality, and the author's knowledge reserve and writing skills are so solid that they hit me like a stroke of luck. Before, Voldemort and Rocket were two completely unrelated things to me. When I read the introduction and title, I thought it would be a very radio-type Ravenclaw-style work, but I didn't expect it to be, eh, Slytherin. Although I feel that this book has a large proportion of rational parts, the story is still very good ~ By the way, I thought dogs would go offline during the summer vacation. Although I feel that this book has a large proportion of rational parts (I say it again), there are also quite a lot of emotional parts. But it gives me a more abstract blue color and a cold feeling and warmth. How should I describe it? Think of it as a "Slytherin" romance!

Diary Xiaofu is so pitiful that he was first distilled and squeezed, and then his new body was made of his own Muggle father as the raw material. He was so funny.

31 The monster in the secret room The academic pressure suddenly fell heavily on the shoulders of the fifth graders. The amount of homework has increased sharply, the required length of thesis homework has doubled, and there are many quizzes in the classroom. Today there will be random memorization tests for Potions and Charms classes, and there will be pre-class tests for Herbology and Divination classes tomorrow. Many students came to Tom to write papers for him. Tom was also very busy. He didn't have much free time, so he offered extremely high prices. He only worked for the most eager students and could extort a dozen Sickles at a time. "If your OWLs can't reach E, don't take my advanced courses for sixth and seventh grade at all!" In the Arithmetic Divination class, Professor Stroud tapped the blackboard with his wand, and chalk dust fell into the hair of the students in the front row. There were mourners everywhere in the audience. And Tom Shishiran took over his arithmetic divination course paper from the professor. Sure enough, he was the only O in the class. "Why didn't you go to Ravenclaw with a mind like yours?" Another person with an O, Beatrice, seemed to be slightly dissatisfied with the Sorting Hat's choice. "The Sorting Hat thinks I'm more suitable here." Tom flattened the corners of his homework and put it back in his bag. "Mr. Riddle, let me ask you, how did you complete the structural sketch of the first version of No. 2 While completing the three papers of Transfiguration, Charms and Arithmetic Divination?" Avery turned back from the front row, put the quill in front of Tom's face, and interviewed resentfully. "And also on night watch like me." Beatrice added. "Energy potion," Tom answered. "It doesn't help if I drink," Avery said. "That's because after you drink it, you'll use the time you saved to hit Gobstone." The professor glared at them, but did not deduct points because the two best students in the class were in that group. At the same time, Dumbledore, the transfiguration professor, began to take frequent leave this school year. The substitute teacher is a Ministry of Magic official named Wilson. She is better at taking exams than teaching. This lady's Transfiguration class is roughly equivalent to the explanation of OWLs real questions. "Her teaching level is far inferior to Dumbledore!" A Gryffindor student protested at the breakfast table. The classmate next to him told him to shut up. "Dumbledore is obviously fighting Grindelwald!" Another Gryffindor whispered, as if this was a confidential matter. "This is much more important than a few Transfiguration lessons!" "Last semester, he used magic to create more than two hundred birds to pass through Grindelwald's air defense line and spy on confidential information..." Senior Sister Potter said in a serious manner, and the Gryffindors beside her kept nodding. No one complains that Ms. Wilson's class is boring anymore. Tom and Isaac happened to be passing by. "The number of birds created by Dumbledore is still increasing," Tom said mockingly. "It seems they have learned to reproduce. He is truly a master of transfiguration." "Riddle, you know, this is the best cover-" Isaac lowered his voice. "Of course I know," said Tom displeased. Last semester, he - along with Isaac and Beatrice, incidentally - had accidentally caught the attention of Grindelwald himself while researching the continent's anti-aircraft magic. Grindelwald naturally believed that these owl spies from Hogwarts were challenges sent by Dumbledore, the only wizard in the entire UK who was qualified as his opponent. He even wrote back to Dumbledore enthusiastically, not knowing why he was so excited. As a result, the three fourth-year students, who were bold enough to scout the enemy's territory, managed to sneak past unnoticed as if nothing had happened. All three of them had very complicated feelings about this. Tom and Isaac walked towards the tapestry on the eighth floor where a troll was beating a wizard with a club. Now, in order to improve the efficiency of building No. 2, The Room of Requirement has been opened to the entire experimental team. How did Tom persuade Walburga? The time was pushed forward to the first internal meeting of the Knights in the fifth grade a few days ago. "I don't agree." Walburga said, looking like a haughty queen. She sat on the high-backed chair on the right side of the long table, looking directly at Tom. "Then we can just let Beatrice, Wenlock, and Price in." "No." "Belby is a pureblood." "That won't work either!" This is obviously an old grudge between love rivals, not a bloodline issue. Abraxas and Avery exchanged a cryptic look. "This place only belongs to the Knights, and no one else should be allowed in - especially Shaw and Goldstein - they are even two Muggles!" Walburga's expression was as if someone put garlic on her nose. She had rarely participated in the specific assembly of the brass cabin before, just to stay away from the two mudbloods. It's not because I'm not good at math. "But we have been tinkering with the brass cabin together for so long -" Avery scratched his head, "To be honest, they can be considered honorary hybrids, right?" For a moment, the other people in the Room of Requirement looked at him as if they were a fool. "Honorable half-blood." Lestrange chewed these words slowly and expressionlessly, as if he was choosing a less honorable way for Avery to die. "Honorary half-blood!" Abraxas laughed. He laughed twice, then suddenly thought of something, and his smile faded. "Well, Ruth and McKinnon are originally mixed blood, so they can be considered honorary pure blood...?" Avery scratched his head blankly. "How could pure blood be awarded?" Walburga laughed angrily. Mulciber began to applaud: "Now I have to agree! What a genius idea! Let them compete, and the most obedient one will be promoted to an honorary half-blood first, and the one who performs particularly well will be promoted to an honorary pureblood——" "Then if I bring tea and water for Walburga, am I considered an honorary house elf?" Alphard leaned lazily on his chair and whistled, "I am an honorary half-blood elf. Orion is more obedient and can be directly promoted to an honorary pure-blood elf——" Walburga rewarded him with a silent stinging charm. He bounced up with a roar. "Sister," Orion stood behind Walburga, pulled her sleeves, and whispered, "we need a place to hide the mithril nails that we stole from home. We can't put them in an empty classroom." Walburga choked. Mulciber coughed. "That's enough," said Tom. Everyone fell silent. "You're worried they'll see the Order's books and lists and lockers," Tom told her. "They won't." He tapped his wand on the long table of the Knights. The stars hanging high above our heads went out. Silver lamps, a fireplace, a dark green carpet and eight high-backed chairs quickly recede into the walls. The long table split in the middle and sank into the ground. The high-backed chairs of the knights turned into metal stools with cotton pads. Avery almost fell on his back. The forbidden bookshelf was swallowed up by the stone wall, and even the small door that Alphard used to hide from his sister disappeared. Smooth refractory stone bricks were spread out from Walburga's feet to all sides. The walls expand outwards and the vaults lower into a bright white ceiling. Work tables, hangers, brass pulleys and chains for fixing large cabins sprouted from both sides. Rows of empty, unmarked cabinets appeared on the walls. Only Walburga's high-backed chair remained, and she gripped the armrests firmly. "This is the room they need," Tom announced. "The Knights' things will stay in another state, and no one will know our secrets." He waved his wand again. The white ceiling fades upward, the stars light up again, and the long table and silver lamp return to their original place. Walburga's chair remained untouched the entire time. She pursed her lips and said nothing. "They already know that we built an unapproved manned aircraft," Tom reminded her. "In comparison, a repurposed classroom is not the most dangerous secret they have." "The working hours of the experimental team must not overlap with the meetings of the Knights." Walburga finally said, "The Knights always take priority. Everyone must keep it confidential. No one else is allowed to enter." "Of course," said Tom. "I just don't object for the time being." Walburga raised his head. In order to safely hide the stolen goods taken from the Black family, the Queen reluctantly allowed the addition of an auxiliary workshop with Mudblood workers in her royal court. This is the whole process of Tom convincing her. Cut to the present. Tom and Isaac came to the tapestry in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Tom silently made a wish and walked around the corridor three times. When the door appeared silently, Isaac was still startled, even though he had seen it once yesterday. They stepped through the stone door and entered the large room belonging to the experimental group. The room is extremely spacious, with at least ten large workbenches. The floor is paved with refractory stone tiles, and a set of brass pulleys and chains protruding from the wall are used to lift the cabin. The wreckage of No. 1 Was divided into a dozen parts, and the largest half of the cabin hung in the center of the room, where Xiao was detecting something with his wand. Walburga was sitting in front of a gorgeous desk in the middle, finishing up the Potions homework from the day before yesterday. To be honest, that desk was a bit out of place in the entire laboratory, like an early Victorian artifact placed in an industrial-style factory building. "You're here." She just nodded to Tom, looking at Isaac like air. Isaac didn't look at her either. He walked straight to the workbench on the left and spread out the second draft of drawing No. 2 Rolled up in his arms. Xiao apparently suffered the same treatment. Although as a Gryffindor, he has always dared to go home against blood discrimination, but because Walburga is a woman, and he holds the concept of "a good man does not fight with women" that an English gentleman should have in the 1940s, he usually tolerates her. Walburga interpreted this as the Mudblood's natural fear of Black. Both sides are satisfied with this peaceful state of mutual disregard. Perhaps. Xiao is concentrating on studying the wreckage of No. 1. He uses a series of detection spells to deduce the process of its destruction. The more he deduced, the more convinced he became that this thing really fell from 30,000 feet. "Riddle, come and take a look." Xiao said. Tom leaned forward. Xiao let several detection spells crawl along the cabin shell. The light blue light marked the location of impact, bounce, roll, and impact again. "It fell from at least twenty-five thousand feet," he said. "Considering that the shell originally had a deceleration spell, thirty thousand feet is reasonable." "I said thirty-two hundred feet," said Tom. "I thought you were bragging." "Thank you for your trust." Isaac has spread out drawing number two. No. 2 Still uses a continuous expansion space, which is divided into three sections. The front cabin is responsible for control, the middle cabin houses oxygen supply, insulation and magic storage systems, and the rear cabin holds supplies and six fixed seats with safety belts. The compartment door can be sealed independently, and all cabinets can be locked into the bulkhead. "Keep the bed," said Tom. "Folding bed," Isaac said. "Where's the desk?" Xiao pulled out a table leg half embedded in the cabin roof from the wreckage and waved it at them. The desk was rejected. Tom felt sorry for it and decided to sneak it in if necessary. He raised his wand. Six newly made curved brass brackets fly up from the workbench and snap together around the central main beam. The rivets burned red one by one and drilled into the seams. Number Two's skeleton gradually took shape next to Number One's body. It was getting later and later, and members of the experimental group left one after another. At nine forty, Walburga rolled up his potions paper and stood up. "Your patrol starts in ten minutes," she said to Tom. Tom glanced at the time, rolled up the last directional loop diagram, and left with Walburga. The door closed behind them. A whole laboratory where illegal flights were conducted, the wreckage of No. 1, The skeleton of No. 2, The stolen goods stolen by pure-blood children from their own homes, and the school rules that more than a dozen students had violated disappeared together behind the flat stone wall. Tom straightened his robes and pinned his silver-green prefect badge back to his chest. Now, he has returned to being one of the most reliable and well-behaved students at Hogwarts. At night, Tom walked in the dark corridors of Hogwarts wearing the prefect badge. He loved the castle at night. Hogwarts during the day is bright, bustling, and full of magic, belonging to classes, professors, applications, regulations, and other students. After most of the lights are extinguished at night, the spiral staircase sinks into darkness, the portrait begins to take a nap, and every footsteps in the distance can be heard in advance. The entire castle is like a huge magical artifact that has not yet been fully explored, containing dark, sweet and dangerous secrets. It would be even more perfect if the prefect who was patrolling with him happened to be away. In the same group as him today is the sixth-year Hufflepuff male prefect. As a rule, the new fifth-grade prefects have to work with the old prefects during their first few patrols. So he put his hands in his pockets and twirled his wand. There were noises on the fourth floor and the second floor at the same time. There was the sound of armor falling to the ground on the fourth floor, and the sound of a door closing on the second floor almost simultaneously. "Riddle, split up?" The prefect in his group said. "I'll check the second floor," Tom said. When the other party's footsteps disappeared, he immediately turned around, crossed two shortcuts, and came to the abandoned women's bathroom on the second floor. He pushed the door open, closed it behind his back, and cast an anti-eavesdropping spell on the surrounding area. There was no one in the bathroom. The white square bricks glowed blue-grey in the moonlight, the base of the wall was still damp, and the air smelled of soap, lead pipes, and old stagnant water. He had wiped off a small piece of the patina on the innermost faucet, and the thin snake carved on it revealed its eyes. Tom squatted beside the sink and removed the cover that concealed the door to the secret room. It was quiet deep inside the pipe. "Are you still there?§" Tom hissed. There was a slow grinding sound in the darkness. It was closer than last time. "Talking little thing.§" The pipe vibrated. Something extremely heavy shifted position deep in the distant stone. Tom's heart was pounding and he put his ear close to the entrance to the secret room. "What are you?§" He asked the monster in the secret room, then waited intently for the answer. "Ssaress.§" The monster's voice was silky and deep. Tom was silent. This word, not any species. Hardly even a name. Ssaress is a phrase unique to Parseltongues, which is entangled with the concepts of warmth, coiling, containment and youthfulness. The closest English meaning is: "a little thing coiled into my warmth". Tom was reluctant to use that word for the thing deep in the pipes that made the entire floor tile slightly vibrate. However, since there is no other title, he can only reluctantly appreciate Salazar's naming skills. "Okay, Sareth.§" The thing in the dark cheers. "Thares. I am Sares.§" There was a joy in the deep old hiss. "What I want to ask is, what category do you belong to?§" "Mama's Sareth.§" The monster clearly had no idea of its own species classification. Tom was silent for a moment. "Who is your mother?§" "Salazar Slytherin.§" Tom was silent again. He carefully considered whether the Parseltongue word "mother" had any other meaning. Unfortunately, no. Snakes don't care much about human gender. The word refers to the incubator, the giver of the first warmth, the first bite of food, and the initial safe place in which the young snake can burrow and coil. Taken together, it's still mom. "Salazar Slytherin is a man.§" Tom tried to correct. "It's mom.§" "He's not—nevermind.§" Sares let out a low hiss. That seemed to indicate some confusion. Tom decided to change the subject and stop debating whether men could be mothers. "He hatched you?§" "Warm. Black. Crusty. Knock, knock, knock. Then crack. §" The voice became softer, as if it had reentered a very distant memory. "Mom put her hand in. It was big. It was warm. It was thick. §" There was a sound of scales scraping against the stone beneath the sink. "I'm very small. I'm coiled here. My tail is here. My head is here. Mom touches me with one finger. §" It seemed to be gesticulating with its huge body as it moved. Tom looked down at his palms. It's hard to imagine that what lies deep in the pipes was once only this big. "What did he feed you?§" "Small, hot, running meat.§" "Rat?§" "Rat. Chicken. Soft chicken. And salty fat.§" "Bacon?§" "Bacon.§" Sares clearly liked the word. "Mom held it with her hand. I bit the meat. Once, I bit my mother. My mother knocked on my nose and said I couldn't eat from my hand.§" "What happened next?§" "I grew up.§" "How big will it be?§" "A little bigger.§" There was another heavy friction sound from the depth of the stone bricks, and the entire row of faucets in the bathroom trembled at the same time. Tom looked at them. Obviously, more than a little bigger. "Mom's hands are getting smaller and smaller.§" Sares continued, "At first, I could wrap them all in. Later, the tail would fall out. Later, I crossed my hands, arms, and mom. Mom said, heavy.§" Tom imagined Salazar Slytherin being coiled from his wrists to his waist by a growing snake. The great founder of Hogwarts might have had to pry open its tail with his wand to get up from his chair. "You keep crawling into his arms?§" "Warmth.§" "You can't let it go anymore.§" "Just coil it tighter.§" Makes sense. Tom was speechless. He originally thought that the monster in the secret room would be an ancient guard with nearly a thousand years of wisdom who could tell him the orders left by Slytherin himself, the original structure of the castle, and the mission that the pure-blood heir should undertake. Instead he found a giant animal that still thinks it can fit into Salazar's palm. It remembers little of Salazar's political ideals. It remembers bacon. Remember the rough touch of the old wizard's palm. I remember that after biting my finger, the tip of my nose received a moderate blow. Tom has no corresponding memory. All he knows about his mother comes from orphanage registers, a surname and a tombstone. Sareth has been locked underground for nearly a thousand years, and at least he still remembers someone holding it in his hand every day. This is somewhat unfair. Especially considering the monster sounds like it could eat people. "What else did Salazar teach you?§" Tom asked. "Close your eyes. Open your eyes.§" Tom's attention snapped back. "When do you close your eyes?§" "When mom touches me. When mom holds me. When mom stands in front.§" "When will you open your eyes?§" "When the little mouse runs. When the rabbit hops. When the bad things make a noise.§" "What bad thing?§" Sares struggled to find the right word. "Stinky. Two legs. Can't speak properly. Makes mom angry.§" "Muggle?§" "A dumb two-legged thing.§" "What did you do to them?§" "Open your eyes.§" "What then?§" "They harden. Fall down.§" Sareth's tone was still cheerful. "The mice also become hard. The rabbits become hard. The bad things become hard too. Good sarees, mother said. Then give me the fawn. §" "Alive?§" "Can run. Lots of meat.§" Salazar rewarded it with a whole fawn. Well... That provides a disturbing body type reference. "Are your eyes closed now?§" Tom swallowed and asked. "Close.§" "Why?§" "You will speak correctly.§" "You can speak correctly, but you can't read?§" "It will harden if you look at it. Once hard, you can't open the door.§" Tom slowly moved away from the mouth of the tube. The monster heard the scraping of his clothing. "Don't go.§" "I'm not leaving.§" "You're far away.§" "You can't see me.§" "You can smell it. Hot blood.§" Tom shuddered. At this time, the call of the prefect in his group came from outside the door. Tom was actually relieved. "I'll be back again.§" He took a few steps back, preparing to leave. There was a gentle friction deep in the pipe. The huge thing seemed to be getting closer to him. "Talking little thing.§" Thales called to Tom before he left. Tom paused. "After you open the door, I will close my eyes first.§" The monster in the secret room said softly.

This girl's experience is really amazing. Among the first-generation Death Eaters, she was probably the only one who was able to escape unscathed. After all, she didn't have any extra filters for Riddle.

The Tom written by the teacher is so delicious and beautiful 😭 😭 😭 (ps. Did the teacher open a trumpet account? I want to see the teacher's other works 🤩)

Oh my God, such a cute golden retriever... Her elbows are turned out... Her face is red... Her butt is swelling... [Purple Sugar] kswl

Cut the bitter gourd into two halves, oh so... I can't wait to see my father and uncle after picking them up.

Let me just say those boring exams and boring trivial stuff can drive people crazy.

The division of labor has actually been divided, and even bail has been released? It's so funny.