bacchusnovels Chapter 599 Voldemort's Interview
Chapter 599 Voldemort's Interview
Chapter 595 Voldemort's Interview
"Friend, where are you from?"
A pair of arms mischievously climbed onto Voldemort's shoulders.
Voldemort glanced at the man with extreme disgust, subtly removed his arm from his body, and replied calmly, "From the north."
"North?"
The man repeated his answer, seemingly quite surprised: "The north is quite far; you came alone."
Voldemort remained silent.
If it weren't for the fact that I wanted to infiltrate this group that was using my name to swindle and deceive people.
Based solely on the man's presumptuous behavior just now—
He has died tens of thousands of times.
If an ordinary person didn't answer, it would be understandable that Voldemort didn't want to talk.
The man's brain is like it's missing a screw; he keeps nagging.
"Hey, what a tough guy."
The man grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth.
"Things aren't very peaceful up north lately. I heard that the Ministry of Magic has already reached there. They're doing all sorts of evil, even targeting young dark wizards, forcing them to go to Hogwarts for further studies."
Voldemort's eyes flickered slightly, but his expression remained unchanged: "They often do this."
The man paused for a moment, then laughed even louder.
"Haha, bro, you're really good at joking. What's your name?"
"Tom," Voldemort said softly, "and you?"
Just as the man was about to answer, the line moved forward—
He swallowed the name he hadn't uttered, winked at Voldemort, and whispered.
"Come on, once we get past this crossroads, I'll treat you to a glass of Flaming Whisky."
Ahead was a makeshift checkpoint cobbled together from tattered tarpaulins and magical barriers. There was a rickety wooden table behind which sat a middle-aged witch with a scarred face, wearing sunglasses, casually drawing something on a piece of parchment.
She was chewing bubble gum, and every time she blew a bubble, it created a string of purple sparks in the air.
It's the new "Bubble Pop" from the Weasley Twins.
This comical and meaningless little gadget unexpectedly became very popular in the wizarding world.
Even when war is imminent and the atmosphere is tense.
The Weasley brothers' business, however, did not decline but increased, as if people needed a little meaningless noise the more they were in the dark to pretend that life was still going on.
"Next!" she called out impatiently, not even looking up.
The man rushed over excitedly, stood up straight, and gave a sharp salute.
"Good day, ma'am! I am Hisban Logwater, specializing in dark magic, door-blasting, Imperius spells, and infiltration!"
The witch finally looked up and glanced at him.
"Yes, yes, yes!" The man's eyes lit up, and he quickly pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment with oil stains on the corners from his pocket and carefully unfolded it.
"This is—" he lowered his voice, a smug look on his face, "Lucius Malfoy's autograph!"
The signature was so illegible it looked like a mad crow flapping its wings on the paper, the ink already smudged, and the letters "Lucius" were vaguely discernible—as for "Malfoy," it looked more like the residual pattern of some kind of failed spell.
Voldemort stood not far away, his gaze fixed on the paper. His eyelids twitched slightly, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
That's not Malfoy's handwriting.
He knew better than anyone that Lucius was meticulous in his writing.
Even the documents submitted to the Ministry of Magic for falsifying accounts were so neatly formatted that they could be printed and published.
Not to mention his awe of the words "Dark Lord"—
He would never "recommend" anyone without being ordered to do so.
This signature is obviously fake.
More accurately, it was a fake cobbled together haphazardly by a third-rate forger who had never met Malfoy in person but had only heard his name.
But the man held the letter of recommendation as if it were a sacred object.
His confidence practically lit up the entire interview booth, and he even whispered a boast to Voldemort, who was behind him in line.
"You know what? I had to pull some strings to get this through the back door of Umrick's Bookshop on Noctis Lane. The owner said this piece of paper was stolen from the Malfoy family's cellar, and it even has some old wine stains on the back—tsk tsk—the smell of pure-blooded nobility!"
The people behind muttered under their breath, "Incredibly stupid."
Meanwhile, the female interviewer behind the table had already narrowed her eyes, stared at the letter of recommendation for three seconds, and then gently tapped it with her wand.
"It's fake." Her tone was as calm as if she were announcing the weather. "Malfoy's magical signature has magical fluctuations, but this piece of paper doesn't even have a basic anti-counterfeiting charm."
The man's smile froze.
"Wait, wait, wait, no way—" He suddenly leaned forward, looking like he didn't believe it. "The boss said it's true!"
He even gave me a 10% discount!
"Congratulations," the witch looked up and smiled, "you not only bought counterfeit goods, but you also got ripped off."
"I—" the man stammered, cold sweat trickling down his forehead. He realized something was wrong. "Then...can I still have the interview?"
"Of course." The witch's smile grew even sweeter. "What the Death Eaters need is loyal material like you—fearless, unafraid of being deceived, and of questionable intelligence."
With that, the witch flicked her finger, and a dark green flame engulfed the letter of recommendation, leaving not even ashes behind.
"Come on, let me ask you a few routine questions." She tossed a form onto the table.
"Are you willing to accept the Dark Lord's direct orders without question?"
"I'm willing!" the man practically shouted.
"Are you proficient in using the Cruciatus Mantra?"
"I use it even better than my mom's spatula!"
What are your thoughts on being drafted to your death?
The man was taken aback, but quickly revealed an unsettling smile: "As long as you die loud enough, it'll be considered a contribution to the Dark Lord."
The witch nodded and ticked the box: "Congratulations, you've passed the first test. Go to the loyalty test area over there, stab yourself, recite an oath, and then do ten minutes of blindfolded snake-finding."
The man rubbed his hands together excitedly: "Great! I've loved snakes since I was a kid!"
Voldemort stood in the group, watching everything with a blank expression.
It was finally his turn.