Hogwarts: Bourne Returns from Warhammer

Dumbledore was wearing a small houndstooth gray three-piece suit that had been with him for many years. The waistcoat had a high opening and underneath was a light blue green collared shirt.

He folded the gloves neatly and put them into his pocket. The lambskin gloves seemed to have been worn for decades, and the fabric looked a little soft.

If he had an umbrella in his hand, he would not look out of place even if he was heading to Downing Street.

However, he was standing next to a bus stop in Gibraltar, thousands of miles away from London.

Gibraltar's iconic "Skyline Plane" whizzed past his head. The exhaust of the aircraft engine intertwined with the soft gray airflow, making the old man with white hair and beard hold his breath.

"Merlin's beard!"

Dumbledore muttered under his breath.

"The people here are really strange. How do they tolerate this iron guy that is noisier than the Welsh Green Dragon flying over their heads every day?"

Fortunately, his behavior and appearance are not so bizarre in this place.

Many of the Muggle tourists who came here from all over the world, like him, wore clothes that did not suit the local characteristics. Moreover, there are also many people who are also surprised by the kind of airplanes flying across the city skyline here.

Surrounded by bustling traffic, this small town is full of energy. People move back and forth as the traffic lights change. Occasionally, some people run red lights.

On the pavement where Dumbledore was, a bearded man was feeding pigeons.

He never disturbed him more than a gruff greeting, and was a good companion; besides this he was a good host of banquets, for he evidently saved the best for his pigeon friends. of bread crumbs.

It was a letter that called Dumbledore here.

About half an hour ago, he was reading newspapers and playing Muggle crossword puzzles in a Muggle gentlemen's club called "The Odyssey" near Whitehall, London. The chocolate drinks in that club fit the bill perfectly. The taste of an old man with a sweet tooth.

After presiding over a secret court hearing in the Ministry of Magic's Wizengamot to partially clarify a mistake that had occurred in the past, the Chairman Archmage urgently needed desserts and a quiet place to ease his tense nerves.

After all, under the premise that only part of the truth can be revealed, in order to prove that Peter Pettigrew was the real culprit of the terrorist attack eleven years ago, we must also defend the younger brother of the Black family who has been unjustly imprisoned for eleven years. Sirius' clearing his name was actually a waste of energy.

Dumbledore needed to convince many people, and this kind of persuasion could only be done with words.

It's not easy.

However, even though he was very exhausted physically and mentally, after receiving the letter from his old colleague and friend Horace, the old man still quickly applied for a "portkey" from the Ministry of Magic.

(Don’t ask why he got the application within half an hour, and it was still on the weekend. Ask me why the Ministry of Magic has always been so efficient.)

Then, he took the "portkey" in the shape of a lambskin glove and came directly from London, England to Gibraltar.

Next to the bus stop, he saw a well-dressed, well-meaning traveler stuffing a bill into a homeless man's paper coffee cup.

A couple who appeared to be on their honeymoon walked hand in hand across the crosswalk. The woman stared down at the ring on her finger while the man proudly told her about the history of the place.

The driver of a well-traveled Anglia taxi rolled down his window and cursed cyclists who jumped at the traffic lights at the intersection. Moreover, obscenities in Spanish, Arabic and English are mixed together to ensure that the person being scolded can understand the meaning of his words.

"What a strange place..."

Dumbledore thought with a smile.

In particular, the taxi driver reminded him of some of the things he had done when he was a teenager.

He was only in his third year at Hogwarts at that time, and it was also a summer vacation. He took Aberforth and Anna with him and secretly went to a tavern run by goblins to play. As a result, he was provoked by several magical guests there. .

The three little guys there used the language of elves, leprechauns and giants to curse with guests from several magical races, but they were unable to convince the provocative drunkards. In the end, they had to use "magic wands". "Universal Language" determines the champion of the scolding.

"...Thinking about it this way, it doesn't seem so strange. Nothing new has happened in this world for a long time."

And just when he was getting ready and preparing to go to the "Pillars of Hercules" market for a student home visit based on the information provided by Horace's letter, the taxi behind the "tongue-in-cheek" guy just now The driver suddenly turned the steering wheel and drove quickly towards Dumbledore.

The tires rubbed against the ground, making a soft "squeak" sound, and the light blue Anglia stopped next to Dumbledore.

The electric wipers flickered once.

"Camuan!"

The driver shouted to Dumbledore cheerfully, and then he stretched out his arms and opened the door for the confused old man.

Judging from his appearance, he seemed to be absolutely sure that the old man would choose to take his taxi without any thought of refusing.

The key is that he also took out a branch - this wand was definitely not a wand produced by Ollivander, it looked like a "toy" made by himself.

"Sure enough, you know your stuff."

When the old wizard got on the Anglia, the driver said even more proudly: "Because there are too many Muggles here, we wizards are easy to get lost, so we provide services for guests who come here for the first time. Pick-up service.”

Because the space in the car was somewhat narrow, Dumbledore, who was over 1.9 meters tall, had to spread his legs and lean back as much as possible to prevent his head from hitting the roof of the car.

The taxi driver seemed to be an acquaintance. He kept chattering while driving. From this point of view, taxi drivers all over the world, whether Muggles or wizards, seemed to have the same professional habit.

"So, do you send someone to pick up every wizard who comes here? Are you a staff member of the Ministry of Magic here?"

"Of course...no."

The driver jerked the steering wheel and cursed "gilipollas" at a donkey cart that was not obeying traffic rules, before continuing his introduction.

"The Ministry of Magic has no control over us.

However, no matter which country's Ministry of Magic it is, the 'portkey' they use connects to the bus stop just now.

They are just doing it for convenience.

However, I have to thank them. As long as I wander around here every day, I can find the customers I need to attract. "

Dumbledore asked curiously: "But how did you know that I was a wizard?"

As a magician with high magic power, he certainly has a way to judge whether a person is a wizard by feeling the fluctuations of magic.

But the taxi driver in front of him, it's not that he looks down on him, the problem is that the wands he holds in his hands have big problems - only those who have not received formal magic school education, and must be completely wandering in the mainstream magic Only a wild wizard from outside the world would make his own wand and use it casually - how could he find out Dumbledore's identity as a wizard?