Harry Potter: The Muggle Crown Prince at Hogwarts

Dumbledore sat in the dust of Nurmengard Tower.

He lowered his eyes, tears flashed in his blue pupils.

"It's surprising," he said softly.

Yes, surprising.

Gellert Grindelwald would actually repent sincerely, not only that, but he still remembered Ariana, and was even willing to take care of the fragile Alexia...

All this surprised him.

But Grindelwald clearly scoffed at that.

He leaned on the iron rod and rolled his eyes, "Hey, you should have some confidence in me. Frankly speaking, if it wasn't for Aberforth, it was so unbearable..."

Dumbledore mostly lowered his head, his blue eyes looked at him through the half-moon lenses, clean and sharp as usual.

The shriveled and thin old man slowly closed his mouth.

He nodded, "Well, I admit that I am also at fault."

Grindelwald raised his right hand and grabbed the opponent's emaciated arm over the railing.

……as usual.

He said softly, "Okay, bring that child and show me."

Dumbledore smiled softly, pulled his arm back from his hand, stood up and said, "...OK."

There was a warning in those blue eyes.

"But, be forewarned—you can't lead him astray."

Grindelwald gritted his teeth angrily.

He was so angry that he didn't know what to say, so he heard the other party say in a very ordinary tone,

"I'll bring you something next time, but you'll have to do it yourself—I'm not good at cooking, you know."

He paused, watching Dumbledore slowly leave the tower.

Such a beautiful fiery red.

he thinks.

At this moment, Durmstrang—

Allen was sitting in the martial arts magic classroom, watching the third grade students swinging iron bars around.

They are obviously not very skilled.

Some were hit in the face by an iron rod, some threw the stick flying, and some simply poked a classmate's butt...

The whole classroom jumped up and down for a while.

Maybe that's what Durmstrang is all about?

Allen disagreed with this, and decisively hid away under the spell of confusion, observing the professor's techniques.

The professor is a solid, strong man.

With a mournful look on his face, he seemed quite used to being tortured by the students in an extremely messy manner.

Holding the stick in one hand, he knocked on the podium with a "boom-boom", frowning and staring at the students.

"It's terrible! I can't imagine—"

He asked, "What about the foundation you laid in the first and second grades? Didn't I teach you the basic movements before?"

"Look, I'll demonstrate it again!"

Allen watched the professor's umpteenth demonstration calmly, saw the iron rod whistling in the air, drawing a golden light, and shook his head slightly.

He felt that maybe it wasn't the teacher's problem.

Allen tried his best to restrain himself, pretending that he was watching a human studies class.

... In Durmstrang, not skipping classes was his last insistence.

However, he still failed, and simply took out the black magic book from his pocket-he was very interested in the magic of imprisoning the soul of the enemy recently.

Finally, the piercing bell after class is like the sound of nature at this moment.

Allen put the book back in his pocket, walked out of the classroom immediately, and came to the dinner table without hope.

...oh, cold meats, salads, bread again.

And of course beer.

Allen sighed softly, took a plate of cold sausages, and prepared to use his own heating spell to heat up the sausages.

... He never thought that the first self-created spell would be used in this kind of place!

This made Allen feel deeply frustrated, and couldn't help but miss the hot steak at Hogwarts.

He looked into the distance, but still did not see the shadow of Floria.

It's been three or four days, this one won't be caught by the parents and have his legs broken, right?

The poor crown prince unskillfully heated the plate and gnawed into a half-luke meat sausage.

Allen was helpless.

He had to eat some bread, ate some salad, got up and went back to the dormitory.

He spent Friday's Potions class without a hitch.

The squeamish little prince didn't want to touch the potion ingredients of animals. Fortunately, the teacher was not unreasonable. After the communication failed, he directly provided Alan with some of the ingredients that he had processed.

Then he got the patience that Allen rarely has.

Allen was even willing to take a little care of the other students in class to take some of the troll's stress off him.

teacher:……

He reminded with difficulty, "Mr. Cornwall, it is very impolite to call a classmate a troll."

Allen agreed, "Okay, Professor."

He turned to the student who forgot to cut into pieces and put all the materials into the crucible, and he knocked on the table threateningly, showing a piercing smile.

cough……

All in all, the class ended perfectly, and all the students under Alan's care completed the potion successfully.

So, when Allen saw Dumbledore the next day and knew that they were going to Nurmengard, he felt from the bottom of his heart that it must be his friendly performance in potions class yesterday that got God's approval. gift.

Dumbledore looked at him with complicated eyes, barely shaking his beard.

He reminded,

"Alan, maybe Grindelwald—I mean the one in Nurmengard—doesn't know much."

The old headmaster lowered the boy's expectations as much as possible, hoping that this would make the boy less disappointed.

Allen looked at him, his pupils swaying slightly, and soon realized Dumbledore's intentions.

...Maybe Grindelwald doesn't know where his mother is either.

His heart sank, but he still smiled obediently, and assured him, "Sir, don't worry, I am already very happy to see him."

he whispered,

"...I am very happy to hear some stories about my mother's past."