days at Hogwarts

In the principal's office.

The lazy Phoenix lay on the windowsill, squinting his eyes, sometimes looking at the field outside the window, sometimes looking at the people talking in the room.

The portraits of past principals sit quietly in the frames, with their hands folded in front of them, either facing forward or turning their heads slightly. Each of them has a calm and kind image.

The tea in the exquisite porcelain cup was emitting wisps of steam, and the silverware on the table was also emitting steam. The warm steam had the effect of refreshing the mind. Scrimgeour took a few deep breaths, and his groggy brain, which had not rested all night, became a little clearer, and even his aching body felt relieved.

Dumbledore was wearing crescent-shaped glasses and leaning back in a chair. He was also wearing a light blue nightgown embroidered with stars and moons. The satin fell naturally, soft and smooth.

"You must give me an explanation, Albus!"

Scrimgeour picked up the cup and took a big sip of tea, then let out a long breath. "Muggle universities and many geological institutes have detected abnormal fluctuations. People in several nearby communities have felt obvious tremors. At least hundreds of people have seen beams of light illuminating the sky. The Muggle government even plans to set up a special investigation team. In order to eliminate the impact, my staff were called up in the middle of the night and have not been able to rest until now."

"Keep calm, Rufus."

The old man slowly added sugar to the teacup, putting four or five pieces in a row, and then he picked up the spoon and stirred it calmly: "About what happened last night, I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?"

"Albus Dumbledore! I am not in the mood for a boring game of choice right now."

"Well, I hope this good news will cheer you up." Dumbledore continued stirring at an even speed, unhurriedly, "You can take back the Ministry of Magic building."

"What!?"

Scrimgeour exclaimed.

Since the fall of the Ministry of Magic and his forced exile, the Minister has been under unprecedented pressure. He has been organizing the remaining forces to maintain the regime, safeguard basic order, and actively restore international affairs. He has been so busy that he has no time to rest. In the first two months, he relied on strong tea to stay awake, and later he began to use Bafe's brain stimulant to stay awake. He even became a little mentally ill.

The prisoner exchange incident made him suffer from suspicion. The temporary base received a large number of complaint letters every day. If it had not been a special period, the Wizengamot would have almost dismissed him.

When he suddenly heard the news that there was hope of taking back the headquarters, he could no longer remain calm. He stood up abruptly, staring straight at Dumbledore with bloodshot eyes, surprise and joy mixed together, and he was so excited that he could hardly speak.

He opened his mouth and asked in disbelief: "What happened last night? Why were we able to take back the Ministry of Magic? Has Voldemort fallen again?"

"Next comes the bad news."

"What bad news?"

Dumbledore tapped the silver spoon on the rim of the cup with delicate and graceful movements, then picked up the cup, brought it to his lips and took a sip.

Scrimgeour's heart skipped a beat when he heard the bad news. It felt like a group of giant eight-eyed spiders were shaking their limbs and scratching at his heart, curious and anxious. When they saw his leisurely movements, they gritted their teeth in anxiety and wished they could grab his teacup and drink it directly from him.

"Well……"

The sweet honey tea flowed down his throat into his stomach, eliminating the fatigue caused by lack of sleep. Dumbledore sighed with satisfaction and looked up at the pair of eyes that were staring at him. His eyeballs were red and wide. He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows: "Rufus, as the Minister of Magic, especially in times like this, you should always remain calm."

"..." Scrimgeour's eyebrows were tightly knitted together, like an angry lion.

Dumbledore smiled and said, "The bad news is that Voldemort has not fallen. He is still alive. He is just seriously injured and needs to recuperate. He will recover soon."

"So..." Scrimgeour's nostrils flared and his breathing became a little rapid. "So what happened last night was that you were dueling with Voldemort. You successfully defeated him and were not injured at all."

"Someone did defeat Voldemort, but I'm sorry, Rufus, I can't reveal his name without his permission."

"why?"

Scrimgeour was puzzled and found it hard to accept. "Albus, I have no ill will towards him. The wizarding world needs such powerful wizards. The Ministry of Magic just wants to seek cooperation. This is a win-win situation. It will win him unprecedented honor, wealth and even power!"

"From what I know about him, he doesn't care about that."

Dumbledore lowered his eyes slightly, his gaze was inexplicably deep.

Rufus would not have used such rhetoric in previous years. He still remembered that when they met at St. Mungo's that summer, the Head of the Auror Office was one of the few officials willing to believe him.

In just a few short years, he has already shown the ugly characteristics of someone in power.

"Could it be Grindelwald?"

"Gellert will not hide names, nor will he take the place of another's victory."

Scrimgeour paced back and forth anxiously in front of the table, looking at the unmoved Dumbledore. Under the gaze of the former headmasters, he finally sat down dejectedly: "Okay, I respect your choice, but I need to know, what happened last night?"

"Sorry." Dumbledore picked up the teacup and drank the tea silently.

"..."

Scrimgeour stared at him and couldn't help asking, "What can I know? Albus, you're going too far!"

"I'm sorry." Dumbledore said sincerely.

But the effect was not very good. Scrimgeour was not comforted, but became more angry. He gasped again: "At least give me an explanation. If Voldemort shows up again, will the mysterious wizard help us?"

"it should be OK."

"..."

In the end, the Minister of Magic left Hogwarts with an indignant expression, but when Dumbledore recounted it to the Deputy Headmaster, he insisted that it was a pleasant conversation.

……

The shores of Black Lake.

The Easter holidays are coming to an end.

The sky was gray, neither cloudy nor sunny, and the clouds were low like a thick quilt.

Having stayed at Hogwarts for several years, the young wizards have become familiar with the climate here. They know that the sky is brewing the pre-summer rainy season and this is just the calm before the storm. All students cherish it very much and scatter around the grounds and by the lake, seizing the moment's tranquility.

Loren sat under a beech tree by the lake, discussing wands with Hermione.

The Elder Wand and other wands are not only different in appearance, the difference is even more significant in actual use. This difference not only applies to Loren, the recognized holder of the wand, but even Hermione, who is not recognized, can also make use of some of the Elder Wand's effectiveness.

Just to a lesser degree.

"Bluebell Flame..."

Hermione muttered quietly to herself, raised her overly long wand and pointed it into the air. Silky blue flames poured out, not slowly one by one, but flowing like an endless stream.

They formed circles around her, the soft blue light illuminated her fair cheeks, and the little witch's eyes sparkled slightly.

The flow of flames was temporarily stopped, and the tip of the staff gently circled. Under the effect of the Transfiguration, the silk-like flames slowly gathered and melted into a ball, warm and bright.

"Orchids in Bloom"

There was a flash of fire, and the flame suddenly bloomed, turning into a handful of flowers that fell into his hand.

Hermione smiled sweetly, patted Loren's shoulder, and handed him the flowers: "Here."

"Miss Granger is quite romantic."

After trying Transfiguration and ordinary spells, Hermione tried several minor curses and weaker black magic, and used several broken flowers and several fish with their belly turned upside down to complete the experiment. Plant and animal protection activists were furious. Sitting down next to Loren, Hermione took out her notebook and wrote as she wrote: "The Elder Wand can enhance all kinds of magic in all aspects, but it is still dominated by the wizard who casts the spell. The wizard's will is the key, and the specific effect is related to the strength of the magic and the accuracy of control..."

"Balabala..." Loren imitated her tone and was hit.

There was a slight rustling sound as the feather pen moved across the paper.

Miss Know-It-All was just a little curious about the legendary Deathly Hallows. After briefly understanding some of its characteristics, she did not go into further depth. After all, she knew nothing about wand-making techniques and had only a superficial understanding of alchemy. She had no interest in delving into things like materials and wand cores for the time being.

After finishing the note and putting it into the pendant, Hermione faced the lake, leaned against the tree trunk, and tilted her head slightly towards Loren. A few strands of hair went into his hands, and he didn't care about them being played with by his fingers.

"Loren, do you have a feeling?"

"What does it feel like?"

"I suddenly felt relieved. The sense of crisis was gone. Voldemort and the Death Eaters who had been weighing on my mind were gone."

"No, you are the only one in my heart." Loren pointed to the bouquet of flowers next to him.

"..."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, disdaining his crude love talk.

The breeze blows through the grass leaves and across the lake, causing tiny ripples. A spring rain is about to come.

……

Before the rain got heavier, the young couple by the lake walked back to the castle hand in hand.

Hermione had to go to Professor Bubbage to revise the manuscript, so Loren had to go back to the common room alone. While giving the password, he casually asked about the Fat Lady's recent situation, and then they started chatting.

Ten minutes later, Loren said goodbye to the Fat Lady and went into the common room.

Several familiar figures were sitting at the small round table by the window. Harry sat alone on one side, while Ron and Seamus sat on the other. They were concentrating on their homework, writing so quickly that their quills were almost leaving afterimages.

Loren came behind the group holding flowers and glanced at the contents on the parchment.

It's a paper for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It involves the principles of magic and is a bit difficult.

"Why are you two the only ones catching up on your homework?"

"Harry gave up and just put together an article with the intention of getting a low score and getting scolded. We are different. We have our own pursuits."

"What are you pursuing?"

"Of course, it's the pursuit of excellence!"

“Your excellent paper is a bit profound.”

"Of course, I looked up a lot of information."

"Then can you explain what "Tao Pan" means?"

Ron turned his head to look at the place he pointed at, and immediately drew a ball of ink and rewrote the correct word in the blank space: "This... is spelled wrong. It should be "provocation."

Professor Bagshot is older and kinder, and his teaching style is gentler, so one or two ink balls are no big deal.

Loren nodded and pointed to another place: "What does this "Ancient Ten" mean?"

"Uh... I misspelled it again. It should be "divination"."

"And here, here, here..." Loren pointed to several places in succession, and finally pointed to the signature, "And when did you change your name, Mr. Luo Niao Weiqili?"

"hiss……"

Ron's eyes widened and he gasped.

One ink ball is a problem of ability, and an article of ink balls is a problem of attitude. Professor Bagshot will definitely not tolerate it, and he will probably make him a prop for practical exercises.

"Oh no, Fred and George's quills don't work..." He stared at the quill in horror and wailed, "I don't think I'll have to re-copy it!"

Seamus hurriedly checked his quill. He had just opened it this morning. It was brand new!

After realizing that he was not hurt, he heaved a sigh of relief and pretended to comfort Ron, but the smile of gloating on his face was particularly bright.

"Don't worry Ron, the Defense Against the Dark Arts paper is not due until next Tuesday, so you'll have enough time."

"What are you laughing at? Is it funny? Don't forget that your quill broke yesterday. You borrowed it from me for your Transfiguration paper!"

"!!"

"..."

Loren sat quietly across the round table, not getting involved in the grudges between the two outstanding students, and watched happily. When the two of them sorted out how many papers needed to be re-copied, the rain outside the window was already heavy. Loren then noticed Harry, who had remained silent, and reached out to poke his arm:

"Harry, what's wrong with you?"

Harry turned his head, his eyes were dull, and it took him a while to refocus. He sighed, "I miss my mother."

"After going through something like that, it's normal to miss your mother. If you feel really bad, just look at your mother's photo and write a letter to Professor Lupin and the others." Loren didn't say anything joking. "You should cheer up and don't dwell on the past."

"I know……"

Harry's eyes blurred again. "But whenever I have free time, I will think of the scene of that night and what my mother said. She said that we will meet again. What do you mean? Will we meet again? When? Where?"

"..."

Facing those expectant eyes, Loren could only remain silent and said helplessly: "You should go to Dumbledore. Even if you can't get the answer, you can still apply for the Resurrection Stone."

Harry's eyes lit up, then dimmed: "Dumbledore won't agree."

"Give it a try. If it doesn't work, you can still get some cookies and desserts. It's better than just sitting here like an idiot."

"I...I, okay."

Harry's eyes flickered and he hesitated for a long time, but he still stood up and walked towards the portrait hole.

"..."

Push him to Dumbledore this time, push him to Ginny next time, and let Ron take him to Quidditch practice the next time...

Loren sniffed the flowers in his hand and retreated tactically. What a master of distraction.

Seamus on the other side heard some confusing words. He only vaguely knew that Loren and Harry did not return home on Easter night and could not get up the next day, but he did not know the specific circumstances and would not be able to find out even if he asked Ron.

Curious as if Mrs. Norris was scratching in her heart, making her feel itchy all over.

What is that kind of thing?

What that night?

What is the Resurrection Stone?

He'll die if he can't hear his adventure stories!