I earned 100 million Galleons at Hogwarts

Chapter 1 Dumbledore?old madman

"Grandpa, haven't you finished yet? The market will be over later, and we still have to buy materials!"

Bored, John put his head on the table and urged the energetic old man behind the counter in front of him.

"It's almost ready, it's almost ready, just wait for me for a while."

Ian Bullock was concentrating on engraving a fine pattern on a ring, and with every fall of his knife, a faint golden light would pour out of the tip of the knife into the ring.

"All right."

John responded, closed his eyes and relaxed his whole body, his feet dangled in the air and swayed freely. The only sound in the room was the sound of carving knives rubbing against metal.

After an unknown amount of time, the bell hanging above the store door suddenly jingled.

John regained his energy all of a sudden, stood up, and shouted loudly with a smile on his face: "Welcome, what do you need? We have all kinds of magic props in our store. If you don't like them, we will support them here." Exclusive customization, guaranteed to meet all your needs!"

The door was pushed open, and a tall and thin old man walked in with his head slightly lowered. He wore semicircular glasses on his face, silver hair and silver beard hanging down to his waist, and he was wearing a purple robe. He looked very kind.

"Good morning, Little John, have you researched any new pastries recently?" the old man said with a smile.

"Professor Dumbledore? Good morning, you haven't been here for a long time. I have already researched several pastries. Wait a moment, I will make them for you!"

John stood up in surprise, rushed over to hug Dumbledore warmly, then immediately turned and ran to the room behind the shop.

Dumbledore is his big client and big benefactor, who contributes a lot of Galleons to him every month, so he must take care of it.

The room at the back of the shop is a small kitchen. John bent over and skillfully opened a cabinet, which contained various raw materials for making pastries.

"Flour 500g, eggs, sugar"

John muttered in his mouth, his hands moved quickly, and the powdery flour was quickly kneaded into dough one by one, and filled into the corresponding molds.

"All right."

John wiped the flour off his hands, nodded in satisfaction, stuffed the mold into the oven next to it, and closed the door smoothly.

Press the green button, the oven will automatically pour out heat, and the temperature of each zone is different, perfectly adapting to the requirements of various pastries.

It's a pity that he doesn't have a magic wand yet, otherwise it would be easier to make pastries. You only need to wave the wand, and the pots and pans will operate automatically, and you can drink a cup of fragrant coffee while waiting.

The time displayed on the oven slowly returned to zero, and the internal temperature receded. John took out the pastries and stacked them on the tray, and ran to the store with them.

Dumbledore was talking to Ian. Although he was smiling, Ian's expression was not very good-looking.

"Professor, what are you talking about?"

John put the pastry on the table next to Dumbledore and asked curiously.

Dumbledore's eyes lit up, he picked a round biscuit and put it into his mouth, he closed his eyes and thought about it for a while before he said: "I was discussing with Ian just now, I want him to make me something, He just refused."

Dumbledore blinked at John, shrugged pretending to be sad, and said, "Little John, what's the name of this biscuit you made?"

"Toulouse Sugar Pie."

John rolled his eyes and said a name casually. Ian had taken him to this place before, and anyway, many pastries were named like this.

"Huh? Toulouse Sugar Pie? This kind of biscuit is delicious, you can make more next time."

Dumbledore took another piece and put it in his mouth, sighed in admiration, then tapped his finger on the table, the box containing the pastry slowly floated up, and flew into his open pocket.

"How much are these?"

"A total of three gold Galleons, thank you for your patronage!"

With a bright smile on John's face, he bent slightly, and spread his hands in front of Dumbledore.

Dumbledore fumbled in his left pocket, took out three round gold coins, and put them in John's hand: "Okay, I should go back too, Ian, I'll come back another day."

"You don't have to come, you know it yourself, it's impossible."

Ian didn't raise his head, and concentrated on drawing the magic pattern on the ring.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, then sighed: "Try again, if you can't do it, no one can do it, even if it's a dying request from an old friend who is dying, okay?"

"Hmph! Dying request? How many dying requests do you have? Why hasn't your funeral been held yet? I don't know how many flowers I prepared for you have withered."

Ian finished the last stroke, put the carving knife on the table, looked up at Dumbledore, saw his lonely expression, and said impatiently,
"Old lunatic, I shouldn't have talked to you back then, it's okay, it's okay, don't be wronged here, come back later."

"Thanks, Ian, see you another day!"

The loneliness on Dumbledore's face was swept away. After speaking with a smile, he raised his eyebrows mischievously at John, turned and walked out of the shop.

John immediately approached Ian and asked curiously, "Grandpa, what did Professor Dumbledore ask you to do?"

"Don't worry about him, he's a lunatic. He thinks about unrealistic things as a whole. He can still be the principal like him. It's just misleading his children. I don't know if those parents have lost their minds? How could they put their children Send it over to make him a disaster?"

Ian shook his head in disgust, as if what he was talking about was not a great white wizard, but a patient who had escaped from a mental hospital.

"Ahem." John coughed twice and reminded, "Grandpa, an owl sent me an acceptance letter a few days ago, and the signature seems to be from Hogwarts, but you are too busy these days to Time to tell you."

Ian's expression froze, and he was used to complaining about Dumbledore, forgetting that his grandson was also old enough to go to school.

"Well, is it time to buy you a wand? Let's go to Ollivander's first, buy the wand, and then go to the market to buy materials."

Ian is worthy of being an old man, he changed the subject without changing his face.

"Oye!" John jumped up and cheered, a little impatiently, "When are we going?"

"Let's go!"

Ian put the things in the drawer, got up and waved his hand, leading John to walk out of the store.

Pushing open the door of the store, the sound of hustle and bustle came, and people came and went on the old and mottled streets.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bullock, Little John!"

Some people saw Ian and John and greeted them warmly.

"Good afternoon, sir!"

John waved politely, then turned and locked the store door.

Their small shop is in Diagon Alley, not far from Madam Malkin's robe shop.

There are the most fashionable clothing in the whole of Britain, and it is also the partner of Hogwarts, the only sales point of school robes.

The owner is a dumpy woman who is very warm and friendly.

When John was young, Mrs. Malkin often asked him to eat at home, otherwise, with Ian's craftsmanship, he would have been poisoned to death long ago.

"John."

On the way to Ollivander's wand shop, said Ian.

"What's the matter, Grandpa?"

Ian said: "I bought you a magic wand, don't forget to practice magic pattern and seal carving, that is a family heirloom skill in our family!"

John patted Ian's forearm in an old-fashioned way: "Grandpa, don't worry, I won't forget it, and I will definitely become an excellent magic pattern master in the future!"

"Haha, good." Ian laughed heartily, "By the way, how are the magic patterns I taught you a few days ago?"

"Barely successful, but not very smooth."

"Well, it doesn't matter if you don't succeed. It's a little difficult at first, but practice a few more times." Ian said a few words, then suddenly reacted, his eyes widened, he turned around and grabbed John's shoulder, and said in disbelief, "You said you succeeded? All five?"

"Well, they all succeeded, but they failed to achieve the effect you said."

John's tone was a bit regretful. When Ian taught him, he said that the five magic lines were the most basic and simplest, and it was only when the magic power could flow flawlessly in them that he could get started.

Ian was stunned for a moment, looked up at the white clouds floating in the sky, and muttered to himself, a little suspicious of life:
"All five were successful. Didn't Dad tell me that the first few magic lines were the most difficult to draw? How long did I use it? Two months or three months?"

"Is this a genius?"

"How big is the gap?"

Ian felt a critical blow to his fragile heart, and suddenly felt that it was not unreasonable for his father to scold him for being stupid at that time.
(End of this chapter)