Wind and Eagle Wings at Hogwarts

Chapter 430

Since the three professors had already attracted the attention of everyone in the bar, Scott did not hide it, but turned his head to look at them openly.

Suddenly surrounded by a group of drinkers asking for news, Professor Flitwick's expression was obviously a little embarrassed, but Professor McGonagall and Professor Babling were very calm.

In other words, Professor McGonagall is very calm, while Professor Babling is as cold as ever.

"We don't know any more than you do," said Professor Flitwick, "but..."

He hesitated.

"Yes, the mysterious man is really back." Professor McGonagall answered seriously.

Although he was already mentally prepared, almost everyone present gasped in unison when they heard Professor McGonagall's affirmative statement.

"Really...really?"

Someone probably didn't give up, and still asked in a trembling tone.

Professor McGonagall nodded affirmatively, "Of course, Dumbledore has already fought him."

"Ke...what's the result?" The voice of the person who asked the question trembled even more.

"The mysterious man escaped, taking his dark wizards with him." Professor McGonagall said heavily, "Of course, the Ministry of Magic also captured a group of Death Eaters."

"Ran away?"

Hearing what she said, the people around him breathed a sigh of relief.

"Great."

"We still have Dumbledore!"

"Sure enough, only Dumbledore can resist the mysterious man!"

"Dumbledore never disappoints!"

People are like grabbing a life-saving straw, desperately praising Dumbledore's greatness.

Even the crease of the missing tooth sitting next to Scott.

They didn't even pester the charming bar owner, Ms. Rosmerta, but decisively left the bar, toasted with others to praise Dumbledore, and tried to find out more news from Professor McGonagall.

Scott chewed the hamburger and watched the scene silently without participating.

Because not everyone in the bar gathers together, his choice is not unique.

"What's the use of such praise? Dumbledore is always just one person, he can't save everyone."

Hearing Ms. Rosmerta speak softly, Scott turned his head and looked at her in surprise.

Ms. Rosmerta served the three professors their drinks and sent them back.

She leaned lazily on the bar, propped her chin on one hand, and winked at Scott.

"What do you think, boy?"

"I don't really understand." Scott showed a confused expression, "I was young during the last war, and I don't have much memory."

Ms Rosmerta laughed.

Although there were a few wrinkles at the corners of her eyes along with her smile, they were strangely old.

"Go abroad if you have the conditions. This time may be more chaotic than the last time." She said to Scott, "Maybe my bar won't be open for a few days."

"Thank you for your suggestion." Scott said politely.

"You're welcome."

Ms. Rosmerta withdrew her gaze, waved her wand, and slowly cleaned the wine glass.

Scott continued to turn his attention back to the three professors.

Professor McGonagall just said the news that shocked everyone, but now he refused to speak.

Professor Flitwick is not very good at refusing, and can only have awkward chats with those people.

At this moment, the sorceress who had previously sang praises to Medea stood up.

She stretched out her hand to push the others away, and walked unsteadily to the desks of the three professors.

"I know more than you." She said a little unconvinced, "Just last night! Ms. Slytherin also fought against the mysterious man. It is because of this that Dumbledore was able to fight against the mysterious man. win!"

The three professors all looked up at her and said nothing.

"Why don't you speak?"

The witch seemed a little drunk and a little aggressive.

The professors didn't respond yet, but someone nearby said dissatisfiedly, "Who knows whether what you said is true or not?"

"Of course it is true!" The witch retorted in a shrill voice, and even started to yell, "Because my husband is there! He is dead! He was killed by the mysterious man!"

The bar fell silent again, and everyone looked at her in shock.

"he died!"

The wine glass in the witch's hand fell to the ground and shattered.

"Shut up, Natalie, we should go."

An old gray-haired wizard emerged from the crowd, grabbed the witch's arm, and tried to drag her away.

The witch didn't resist, but she started yelling as she followed the old wizard's lead.

"Only Ms. Slytherin can save the wizarding world... woohoo..."

The old wizard directly covered the witch's mouth with his hand.

He yelled at Ms. Rosmerta, "Sorry, Rosmerta, we'll check out tomorrow."

"It's okay." Ms. Rosmerta readily agreed.

"let me go!"

The drunken witch began to struggle violently.

"You're drunk, Natalie, stop saying those words." The old wizard persuaded her with a bitter expression.

"Let go of me, Dad!"

As the witch struggled, the wide-brimmed hat on her head fell to the ground.

Her expression was full of sadness, and she shouted hysterically, "If that's not true, if Ms. Slytherin can't save us, then what's the point of my husband's choice and death now! I want to tell everyone that he is Yes!"

After shouting these words, she seemed to lose all her strength in an instant, and she couldn't even stand still, and she collapsed directly on the ground.

The old wizard did not speak, silently picked up her hat, drew out his wand, and took her away with a moving spell.

Everyone in the bar silently watched the strange father and daughter leave, then looked at each other, and stopped gathering at the three professors' desks.

Scott keenly sensed the change in the atmosphere.

He inexplicably understood everyone's feelings.

When they heard the news of the mysterious man's return just now, although everyone was terrified, they also lacked some sense of reality. Now, the witch who became hysterical because of her husband's death presented the real war and death in front of everyone.

In this oppressive atmosphere, Scott took out a few silver Sickles to pay the bill, then turned and left the bar.

Walking under the street lights, his shadow was stretched out.

Rimbaud flew down from the sky and landed on his shoulder.

The witch affected not only other people, but also Scott himself.

"Maybe I've been thinking too simply all this time," he muttered.

"What?" Rimbaud asked softly.

Scott shook his head, not wanting to say more.

He didn't tell Rimbaud that before that, all he thought about was himself and the people he cared about, so he kept watching the upcoming chaos from the sidelines, even though he watched last night's battle through the "live broadcast", He seemed to have watched a movie, but the feeling was not real.

Until today, when he saw the real sadness and despair, he realized that the war brought something deeper than he imagined.

At this time, Scott's mind was a little confused. For the first time, he felt that perhaps being too sensitive was not all a good thing.

He can express the color of magic power through painting, and he can also detect changes in other people's magic power through perception, which makes him more and more sensitive to emotional sensing, and even strengthens his ability to empathize.

He thought of those who died in the battle last night, and somehow felt a little restless.

But Scott's emotional time didn't last long. With the warm summer evening wind, he quickly regained his sanity.

Reason told him not to embarrass himself.

No matter how much you think about something beyond your ability, it will only increase your troubles.

Before he knew it, he reached the door of the Honeydukes Candy Store.

Perhaps because of a bad mood, looking at the colorful candies in the window, he suddenly had an instinctive desire for sweets, so he walked into the store.

A few minutes later, he came out of the shop with a bag full of assorted candies.

After that, he returned to the crow's territory in the forest through the portkey with Rimbaud in a deserted alley.

Chunks of buttery-yellow nougat, shimmering pink coconut sorbet, honey-colored toffee, all kinds of chocolate…

In the oak tree hut, Scott, who had recovered his original appearance, ate several candies in one go, and then began to feel tired.

"I really don't like sweets."

He put down the half-eaten milk chocolate and felt a little nauseous but couldn't spit it out, so he was busy brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth again.

Late at night, Scott lying on the bed finally calmed down completely.

He found out the Sailor Astrolabe that had been identified by the Ravenclaw mentor, held it in his hand, and began to try to communicate.

With the input of magic power, Scott suddenly felt his consciousness sink.

Feeling the weightlessness like falling from a high altitude, this time he didn't panic.

Only in the blink of an eye, he reappeared on the old sailboat in the cold black sea.

Feeling the bone-piercing cold all over his body, this time Scott didn't feel stagnant in thinking.

And because of his clear consciousness and active thinking, the cold that was about to freeze his limbs also slowly faded away.

Scott looked around and began to walk across the battered deck.

Due to the darkness around him, he could not see clearly, and thought it would be nice if he had his wand in his hand.

At the beginning of thinking like this, he felt a familiar sense of grip in his hand, and that familiar feeling of telepathy told him that it was undoubtedly his magic wand.

"Fluorescent flashes."

Scott tried to cast the Illuminating Charm, and the tip of the wand successfully lit up with a non-glare soft light.

It's an amazing feeling.

Scott didn't know whether he was in a dream or an illusion. Everything around him was so real, yet it could be tampered with by his own consciousness.

Just as he felt that he shouldn't feel cold because of this false illusion, the cold really left him.

With the lighting, Scott began to carefully explore the ship, the deck, the cabin, the captain's cabin, and nowhere was spared.

But Scott never got anywhere.

There is no documentation or anything iconic on this old sailing ship, just like a virtual ship modeled in 3D, with nothing worth checking except for its realistic shape.

Is it lack of communication or...

On the deck again, Scott looked up at the sky.

After a while, he blinked.

This starry night sky is of course also false.

Scott thought.

But after a while, he never looked back.

"I hope my knowledge of astronomy will come in handy."

He muttered, and decided to write down the fixed stars in the sky.

The wizard's astronomy is different from the Muggle's astronomy, and it is also a kind of magic. He can judge the location of the old sailing ship through the astrology.

But this also requires some very tedious calculations.

Despite his best efforts, Scott was unsuccessful in remembering the constellations of that starry sky.

When he was still trying to remember, he suddenly felt that his thinking speed began to slow down rapidly.

Although Scott still "struggled" for a while, trying to write down all the astrology, but he failed, and his thinking was about to stagnate soon.

So he can only escape from the illusion or dream.

The escape was successful.

Scott opened his eyes again and saw the familiar ceiling of the cabin.

He rubbed his swollen head with his fingers, and looked at the Sailor Astrolabe in his hand.

This time the sailor chart didn't change at all.

Because the feeling of dizziness was too strong, Scott didn't try to communicate again, put the sailor's astrolabe with the chain next to the pillow, and fell into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, Scott didn't even have time to eat breakfast, so he hurried to the small desk and recorded some of the astrology that he still remembered.

"It seems that we can only take it slowly."

An hour later, he looked at the astrological chart in his hand, which was much incomplete, and knew that he had to piece it together through communication again and again.

When he put down his horoscope and started eating breakfast, Rimbaud flew out the window into the cabin with a new issue of the Daily Prophet.

"Here comes the newspaper!" It put the newspaper on the table.

"Thank you."

Still dizzy, Scott pulled himself together and unfolded the newspaper.

"Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge Memorial Service Held Today."

This is the headline on the front page of the Daily Prophet today.

Scott glanced at the unnutritious content, and began to read the content of other pages.

Who Could Be the New Minister for Magic? "

After seeing the headline, Scott was quite surprised.

Fudge's memorial service has already dominated the headlines, so there is no need to "tit for tat" in the sub-page, right?

Of course, Scott just teased himself inwardly.

He is very clear that the current situation is tense, and it is imperative for the British magic community to elect a new and suitable Minister of Magic as soon as possible, and it is also the expectation of all British wizards.

It's just that everyone's expectations are different, and different people have different ideas about the word "suitable".

Scott glanced at it, and found that this report also had some unnutritious content. It was just a list of people who might become ministers, and a few simple comments.

Scott couldn't help lamenting that it was too easy for journalists to make money.

Fortunately, there was something of interest to him in the next report.

"Azkaban is facing rectification, where should the dementors go?" "

This article apparently makes some decent suggestions for how to manage Azkaban with all the Dementors defecting.

(End of this chapter)