Chapter 57 I Am Voldemort
Basil's gaze returned to the game.
Harry and Draco were practically phantoms.
Their speed wasn't significantly faster than the others,
but their movements were incredibly fluid, each change of direction unexpected and unpredictable.
Malfoy's efforts and the competition in flying class had also improved Harry's skills.
The Lannski feint was a signature move of the world-class Quidditch player Krum.
Even Lynch, another world-class player, couldn't replicate it.
In the original story, Harry could perfectly replicate it with a single glance.
This genius Quidditch player, under Malfoy's competition, finally displayed astonishing skill.
But what surprised Basil most was that Malfoy wasn't at a disadvantage either.
The score between Slytherin and Gryffindor was now 90:100.
As long as the Seeker caught the Golden Snitch, the game would end and a winner would be decided.
Flint and the other Slytherin players wanted to use underhanded tactics, or even open ones,
but Harry perfectly dodged them all.
The Weasley twins' surprise attack on Malfoy was similarly intense.
Everyone in the stands held their breath.
Even the commentator, Lee Jordan, forgot to speak.
They were all completely absorbed in this high-level match.
Finally, a shout from Ron broke the silence.
"Look! The Golden Snitch!"
High in the azure sky, the two figures flew in a spiral, heading towards a fleeting golden light in the sunlight.
Boll, the batter, momentarily lost in thought, was hit by a running ball, whether from Fred or George.
However, no one paid him any attention.
Because the two figures, which had been flying in a streak, returned to their steady flight.
Harry Potter waved his right hand, the Golden Snitch's silver wings fluttering between his fingers.
Draco Malfoy hovered dejectedly to the side, his eyes filled with resentment.
His broom was still a little too slow.
A sweep of the Seven Stars couldn't compare to Nimbus 2000.
Lee Jordan shouted the result with joy—Gryffindor won by 250 to 90.
Harry landed on the ground, surrounded by a surging crowd.
Malfoy returned to the green line.
"I lost,"
he said softly.
Flint's large hand landed on his shoulder. "No, you didn't lose! Look around!"
Malfoy looked up, and before he knew it, he was surrounded by students.
Their eyes were filled with admiration, and they wore smiles.
Flint shouted, "Come on, let's give our house's genius a round of applause!!"
On the other side of the crowd, Ron watched the scene with mixed feelings.
"Why, I don't see anything wrong with this."
He hadn't felt happy when he saw Malfoy's disappointed face.
His happiness then was entirely due to Gryffindor's victory and Harry catching the Golden Snitch.
"Malfoy's skill has won you over," Basil said, arms crossed. "You don't need to be surprised; it's all because of your love for Quidditch. Plus, Malfoy didn't cheat and trained hard all day."
Hermione chimed in, "It's hard to dislike someone who works hard."
"If only I could be like Hagrid!" Ron exclaimed.
Basil glanced at Hagrid, who muttered, "That Malfoy brat, born evil!"
Harry, however, didn't hear this.
Twenty minutes later, he returned to Hagrid's hut with Basil, Hermione, and Ron, where the owner was brewing him a strong cup of tea.
He exclaimed, "Great, to have a Malfoy as an opponent!"
Clang!
Hagrid slammed the teapot back onto the stove.
"Nonsense! It's all lies!"
"Harry, don't be fooled!"
"I used to think there were good people in Slytherin too. He was a superintendent, and later became the head of the student council. Everyone except Dumbledore liked him. He had excellent grades, getting 12 O's in both his OWLs and NEWTs exams."
"He was also exceptionally patient with students like me."
"But it's all lies! He framed me! He killed Myrtle! He got me expelled! Later, he became someone whose name couldn't even be mentioned!"
"Harry! You have to remember, no wizard or witch who later turned bad didn't come from Slytherin. All Slytherins are vile scoundrels!"
Hagrid buried his face in his large, fan-like hands and sobbed like a child.
He was completely unaware of how shocking his words were.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other, unable to process what they had just heard.
Meanwhile, Basil, while Hagrid was erupting, shared everything he had seen and heard with Riddle.
In the Chamber of Secrets in Slytherin, Riddle's expression was inscrutable. "Junior, Rubeus."
"What? Voldemort feels remorse?" Basil couldn't help but sarcastically remark.
"Yes," Riddle answered decisively, "It's the leeway of the strong. Being immortal, I allow myself these weaknesses. To live more authentically than anyone else, to live on forever. Perhaps that's why, in your story, *Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2*, when I captured Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest, I didn't choose to kill him. Not even torturing him."
In the cabin, Harry stammered, "You and Voldemort were classmates? How old are you?"
"62, why?" Hagrid subconsciously ignored Voldemort's name.
"62?" Harry rubbed his eyes, looking at Hagrid's baby face, which looked no more than 30 years old. He couldn't believe Hagrid was actually that old.
Basil wasn't particularly surprised.
He knew Voldemort was 64 from Riddle's words.
But even so, he thought Hagrid was in his fifties. He hadn't realized Hagrid and Voldemort were only two years apart in age.
Half a second later, Hagrid snapped back to reality. "Forget it all!"
he snapped, sounding both agitated and ashamed. "This has nothing to do with you! Don't you have any compassion? This is my shame!"
"Oh," Hermione said, her eyes welling with tears, "it's not your fault, Hagrid. Knowing Voldemort isn't shameful."
"Then could you please stop repeating that name? Dumbledore said we shouldn't fear it, but who is as great as him? I mean, could you leave me alone for a while?" Hagrid stammered, somewhat incoherently.
On the way back to the castle, Ron was filled with regret. "We just left like that! Voldemort! Hagrid was his classmate! And he even tricked him! Maybe we could have gotten a closer look at Voldemort from Hagrid alone! How cool would that be!"
Basil shrugged. "Actually, I know. If you know about the trophy room."
"Inside…" Harry suddenly stopped. "Are there Voldemort's trophies?"
Basil nodded. "There's a very rare award, the Special Contribution to the School Award. Hagrid was expelled in June 1942, when he was 13, in his third year. Myrtle also died that year. At the same time, someone else received this award. Combined with Hagrid's claim of being framed…"
"That person was Voldemort!" Hermione raised her hand to answer.
"Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle," Basil said.
"Voldemort's name is so common?" Ron was incredulous.
"Ordinary?" Basil grinned wickedly. He pulled his wand from his pocket,
drew a few lines in the air, and wrote three glittering names:
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Then he waved the wand, and the letters automatically switched places, becoming:
I am Voldemort.
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(End of Chapter)