Hogwarts on the Tip of the Tongue

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the eighth floor of the main tower of the castle, the principal's office.

This is a spacious and beautiful square room with some weird silverware on the spindle-shaped table.

Although it is summer, the fire in the room is still dazzling.

Near the center of the room, stood an old man with a flowing silver-white beard, the principal of Hogwarts, and is now recognized as the greatest contemporary wizard in the wizarding world, Albus Dumbledore.

In front of him was a huge table with claw-shaped legs, and behind the table was a shelf, on which was a worn-out, pointed wizard hat.

"Dumbledore, what do you think of the lyrics this year?"

The hat twisted, and a wide slit was split from the edge of the hat, making a sound like a mouth.

"It's a beautiful song, I think students will love it."

Dumbledore applauded appreciatively, and his silver-white beard wobbled at the beat.

"Oh, besides that, there is another important thing about the branch of Harry Potter ..."

Paused, Dumbledore raised his index finger, was about to say something, and suddenly stopped his voice and looked back.

The fire in the fireplace behind him exploded, making a snapping sound, and a slightly blamed woman's voice came out.

"Professor Dumbledore, I hope that the important things you mentioned in the letter from Owl do not refer to discussing the lyrics with the branch cap. You know, it is not an easy job to send letter of opening notice to nearly a thousand students. "

A tall dark-haired witch in an emerald green robe leaned over and walked out of the fireplace.

The dark hair was turned into a very tight bun, and his lips were tight and his expression was slightly impatient. It seemed that he was dealing with some difficult things before.

Mileva McGonagall, Professor of Transformation at Hogwarts, Dean of Gryffindor College, and Vice President of the School of Magic.

"Of course not. I just think that you may need a little help with this year's freshman admission notice. For example, a little raspberry jam first?"

Dumbledore turned around and smiled softly, handing Professor McGonagall a small bottle less than two inches high, which was filled with red jam.

"No thanks."

Professor McGonagall replied coldly, obviously not thinking that this small bottle of raspberry jam would solve her problem.

"There is no doubt that from the magic feedback, more than twenty letters sent to Harry through the owl were stopped by the Dursleys. However, as long as Harry failed to open the envelope by himself, the magic pen would automatically repeat the writing. And delivery, the family will compromise in front of reality sooner or later. "

Dumbledore blinked his blue eyes flexibly. "In this case, let me handle the matter of notifying Harry. Hagrid will also act as a temporary postman when necessary."

"Hagrid? Well, it seems that you have decided, you always have your own reason."

Meg frowned, making a nasal noise recklessly, and continued: "If that's the case, just write it in the owl's letter. Is there anything else that must be discussed in person?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed under the half-moon-shaped lens, and took a crumpled note from the table slightly and handed it to Professor McGonagall, saying slowly.

"In fact, this freshman, except Harry, has not received a letter from another child. Accurately, according to the results of Filch's inventory of the owl shed, all the owls flying to her residence have disappeared. . "

"The missing owl? Do you mean ..."

Professor McGonagall pursed his lips, a little puzzled.

"I don't know. But according to the magnitude of the magical riots counted by the Ministry of Magic, the magical power in her body has reached a critical value. If you continue to lack guidance, it will likely become a silent."

Dumbledore shook his head and answered with a serious expression, then looked at Professor McGonagall slightly apologetically.

"Sorry, this kid's situation should have been mine. But the situation on Harry's side, you know. So, you may need to trouble you to visit in person."

"We all understand that the influence of that person is still there."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and shrugged helplessly to express her understanding, "Moreover, as the vice principal, this is also my job. What is the child's name?"

"Elena, Elena Caslana, this is the name she gave herself, and currently lives in a Muggle orphanage in the Scottish highlands."

Dumbledore held the eyes on the twisted nose bridge and added, "Yes, pay attention to the communication method. If I remember correctly, she has half of Meiwa's blood, which may be a bit difficult."

————

Scotland, the largest inland lake on the British Isles, is a small town on the banks of Loch Lomond.

There is a humble chapel on the south side of the town. Just behind the chapel is a small orphanage. Both the priest and the head of the orphanage are a Spanish named Benitez.

The orphanage is not large, most of them are children transferred from other orphanages, and Benitez is only seven in total.

There is no doubt that among many children, there are a pair of bright blue lake eyes, and Elena Kaslana with waist long silver hair is a special special existence.

Not only because she is the only child with a surname, but more importantly, as early as a few years ago, Alina was responsible for the financial allocation of the entire orphanage and the three meals.

At this time, a group of children were sitting around the kitchen door, staring at Elena who was preparing breakfast for everyone.

Like most of the children in the orphanage, ten-year-old Elena is thinner than her peers, and she is only 1.2 meters tall. You can only get the kitchen console by standing on a small wooden bench.

However, if she only looked at her skillful shovel posture, no one would have thought that this would be a little girl less than eleven years old.

In the sizzling flat-bottomed frying pan, the tempting aroma of the fried eggs spilled out, mixed with the scent of the slices of bread that had been baked in advance, leaving the children around the door unconsciously Swallowed hard.

Orphanage funding has always been tight. Only when breakfast is served on Sundays can they smell it.

Beside the frying pan, a large black iron pan seems to be stewing a certain kind of poultry. The tumbling soup has become milky white, with a few gold-colored oil beads floating on it, and a special mellow fragrance. Just asking the fragrance can make people feel warm.

Put the last piece of fried egg into the iron pan, Elena picked up the spoon and tasted the soup that was rolling on the side, slightly touched her mouth, it seemed that she needed to cook it for a while.

Elena bent down, looked at the fire that had become less bright, frowned, picked up a stack of thick parchment envelopes on the table and stuffed it into the furnace, and pounded it in with tongs. Let the flame rise again.

After doing all of this, the girl jumped lightly off the little wooden bench used for stepping, turned around and glanced at the little gluttons around the door, with a small face, clapping his hands.

"Okay, now everyone goes back to the dining table immediately! Otherwise, do n’t want to drink chicken soup today."

The girl put her hands on her hips, struggling to lift her flat chest, trying to make herself look more powerful, threatening with a fierce tone.

"Sister Elena, can the priest still have breakfast with us today?"

Asked Bran, the youngest child in the orphanage. Perhaps because of his young age, he was particularly sticky and could be regarded as Elena ’s number one little **** in the orphanage.

Elena shook her head, and pushed Bran out of the kitchen while replying angrily.

"I have said many times, Dean Benitez's typhoid fever is not good, and it is easy to spread to you. However, I estimate that after a day or two of chicken soup should be completely restored."

"So ..."

Bran stood on tiptoe and looked over the wooden table to the tumbling iron pan, swallowing.

"After the dean is ill, can we still drink Scottish round-faced fat chicken soup every day?"

"This ..."

Elena turned her head and glanced at the burning fire under the iron pan. Among the flaming tongues, an envelope made of thick parchment slowly curled up and lit, and a chic shield coat of arms flashed away. .

Even though it has been nearly six years to travel to this strange world, as a senior fan of the Harry Potter series, she still recognized the coat of arms from the first sight-from the golden lion on the red background to the blue The copper eagle on the bottom, the black badger on the yellow background, and the silver snake on the green background form the main body of the coat of arms. At the center of the coat of arms is a capital letter "H"-the famous Hogwarts School of Magic school emblem.

However, even if the previous life was a fan of the "Harry Potter" series, it does not mean that Elena is willing to step into the world of magic to accompany the trio of salvation missions. UU reading www.uukanshu.com

She was born again, she did n’t want to waste her precious time on a group of middle school students (all Hogwarts) and a wit and bravery at best, a rural terrorist (Voldemort). The Muggle world is about to start. The Internet age is much more exciting than the magic world.

As she had guessed, there was special magic attached to the letters from Hogwarts. Not only did the address change with her actual residence, but the school should also have magic to determine whether the little wizard actually opened the envelope to read Content.

Therefore, she caught the owl as soon as possible and burned the letter directly.

I believe that even if someone from the school comes to investigate, she will resentfully cancel her admission qualification?

Crouching down, Elena rubbed Bran's chestnut hair, took off a dark brown owl hair accidentally stained on his hair, and threw it into the fire behind him, the tongue licked on the feather , With a crackling sound.

"Relax. Before I did not open that envelope, this kind of Scottish round-faced fat chicken will be there every day."

"So ... what does a Scottish round-faced fat chicken look like?"

Bran asked curiously.

Elena shook her head, did not answer, stood up, ended the discussion about the Scottish round face fat chicken, patted Bran's head and said with a smile.

"Okay, you will know when you grow up. Now go to the restaurant and sit down. After breakfast, you have to do early lessons with everyone."

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(Meng Meng Da You Meng wants to have a meal, ask for a recommendation ticket, bang bang bang, more than three thousand words chapter!)