Hogwarts: Bourne Returns from Warhammer

Harry was several blocks away from the Dursleys' house when he slumped down on a low wall on Magnolia Crescent.

The nearly three-mile run took him more than twenty minutes, which was naturally due to his excitement, considering his age and the fact that he was dragging boxes and carrying Hedwig's cage, so the magic worked.

I was so tired that I was out of breath. I sat there with my anger still not subsided and my heart still beating violently.

But after sitting alone on this dark street for ten minutes, a new feeling suddenly invaded his heart: panic.

Regardless, he had never been in a worse situation than he was now.

He was now like a stranded ship, stranded alone in the dark Muggle world, with nowhere to go.

"I have to do something." Panic overwhelmed anger, and Harry gradually calmed down.

He took out a piece of sheep's paper from the box with great effort, and took out the quill that he had hardly used during the summer vacation, quickly wrote a note, and let Hedwig out to give it to Ron.

Although Harry knew that Ron would go to Egypt with his family to visit his older brother Bill this summer, the summer vacation was about to end and he thought Ron should have returned home.

Anyway, it's better this way.

"Hedwig, I promise you'll go and deliver this letter first, and when you come back, I'll make sure to give you the nuts and freeze-dried meat..."

After some careful discussion with Hedwig, he finally managed to coax the owl, who usually had to eat before delivering mail, out of the cage.

After sending out the distress signal, he considered another question: where should he go tonight?

It was obvious that he couldn't go back to the Dursleys, not even if he was asked to.

He didn't have any Muggle money on him. He had a little wizarding gold in the purse at the bottom of his suitcase, but the rest of his parents' inheritance was in the vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. But he couldn't lug his suitcase all the way to London, could he?

At this moment, he felt extremely regretful. He thought that two weeks would pass quickly, so after taking the make-up potions exam, he left his Firebolt and Nimbus 2000 broom in his Hogwarts dormitory when he left school.

Now I want to go to London, unless...

Just as he was about to try to use magic, Harry suddenly realized that he had just performed magic at the Dursleys' house - which meant that he would almost certainly be expelled from Hogwarts School.

He had violated the Minors' Magic Act so severely that he was surprised that representatives of the Ministry of Magic had not descended upon him where he sat.

What would happen to him? Would he be arrested or simply expelled from the wizarding world? He thought of Ron and Hermione, and his mood darkened.

"It's over." Harry was shaking all over, looking around Magnolia Crescent.

-

"Where's Bourne?"

Horace asked anxiously.

The old wizard was like a menacing Riem bull. He pushed Minister of Magic Fudge aside and walked around the so-called trial platform several times, trying to find out where Bourne was hiding.

"That little devil won't hide in the box, will he?"

Umbridge muttered quietly.

Dumbledore glanced at her and said with a smile, "This box has been cast with a traceless extension spell, but it is legal and Hogwarts has its records. If you suspect Bourne is hiding in it, you can go in and take a look yourself. Remember, you'd better keep your eyes open."

Newt Scamander glanced at his old professor in surprise. The honest man suspected that he had heard it wrong: How much hatred and resentment must Dumbledore have towards this woman to let a person go into the basilisk's lair with his eyes wide open?

However, just when the kind old man was still thinking about whether he should stop it in time, Umbridge backed out first.

"How could that be? Headmaster Dumbledore, whatever you say is what we all believe in you... Please say something, Minister Fudge."

In any organization, regardless of one’s background, there are generally no stupid people who can climb to high positions.

Although her flattery of her superiors disgusted many of her colleagues in the Ministry of Magic, Umbridge was a woman who was very good at adapting to changing circumstances.

She knew very well that she was making things difficult for Bourne, a direct descendant of the "Holy 28 Families", just to show her loyalty to her "big shot", Minister Fudge.

She also knew that Minister Fudge did this because he had received help from the "prophet" Thomas, who predicted a good way to undermine Dumbledore's prestige.

Everything that happened before went smoothly, and it seemed to have fulfilled Fang Thomas's prediction.

However, when the little wizard named Bourne was suddenly revealed to be disguised as a box cast with transfiguration, the situation seemed to get out of control.

Umbridge also quickly thought of a horrifying possibility: "Could that little wizard have predicted Fang Thomas's prediction?"

So, just like adding some water to a crucible of scabies potion that was about to boil due to operational errors to cool it down, she also hoped to cool down the situation by saying some soft words.

"Ah? Oh, yes, that's right. Headmaster Dumbledore, I thought so too..."

As a qualified politician and guest, although he was asked a sudden question, Minister Fudge responded immediately.

He also realized that the prophet he met might be temporarily out of his mind, so he quickly took the ladder handed to him by "lackey" Umbridge.

Moreover, Fudge's ability to adapt to changing circumstances was even stronger than that of Umbridge, his natural subordinate.

"...In fact, the man behind me is none other than Thomas Fang, the Muggle thief that Mr. Bourne and Mr. Scamander caught.

Because of his resistance and suspected threats against senior Ministry officials, he was sentenced to take Veritaserum yesterday.

I brought him here so that you can ask him questions - but they must be related to the case.

Given that Professor Slughorn has provided detailed evidence, coupled with the confession of the criminal, this two-pronged approach proves that Bern Slughorn did not perform magic indiscriminately, and the charges against a young wizard can be dropped in a timely manner.

Don't worry, I'm telling you, no one knows the workings of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement better than I do."

Umbridge looked at her superior in surprise and thought: No wonder he is capable of being a leader. Even if he surrenders to the enemy on the battlefield, he would be more straightforward than subordinates like us.

"So, everyone, who of you has silenced him, just raise your hand and let him say a few words?" Fudge thought about it, and mainly because he was afraid of being embarrassed, he did not help Fang Thomas to break the spell himself. He said to the three old wizards with a wry smile.

However, he did not see any of the three old wizards cast spells with their wands, so Dumbledore said directly: "Well, Mr. Fang Thomas, can you first tell me what conspiracy you have played?"

The wise headmaster of Hogwarts, with his sharp eyes, stared at Thomas, whose body was still frozen and only his mouth could speak.

He had just tried to use Legilimency to read this person's memory, but perhaps because he drank too much Veritaserum, this person's mind was a little confused.

Without alerting other people, even someone as powerful as Dumbledore would find it difficult to use spells to forcibly "pry open" his brain.

"No, the questions asked must be related to the case—" When Fudge heard Dumbledore ask this, he was afraid that he would be asked something, so he quickly objected.

Unfortunately, the objection was ineffective.

Fang Thomas spoke up: "Ha, ha, ha... I hired a dump truck, it should have hit that Harry Potter by now."

"What!"xN

As soon as Thomas told this story loudly, the people around him widened their eyes in surprise and opened their mouths so wide that they could swallow a Murtra rat.

-

"Just eat it, and don't say a word."

In a three-story, bright purple bus that violated a hundred or eighty traffic rules, the conductor Stan Shunpike was selling his own chocolates to a little wizard.

This is because the little wizard is moving short distances, so he thinks things like toothbrushes won't sell well.

Operating on a night shift, the bus had no seats, but on each level, behind curtained windows, were six beds with brass posts. Candles lit up the wainscoting walls from brackets beside each bed.

A little wizard in a nightcap, just behind the car, muttered, "Not now, thanks. I'm pickling slugs."

After saying that, the man turned over in his sleep and continued to snore loudly.

Stan Shunpike looked at the man, then assured the little wizard in front of him: "There are absolutely no slugs in the raw materials of our chocolate."

"Then give me thirteen. Your chocolate is expensive enough." After paying 11 silver Sickles for the fare, Bourne took out two gold galleons and five silver Sickles. "By the way, a better slogan should be - 'I guarantee that there is no ant bull ingredient in the chocolate.'"

(Note: 1 Galleon = 17 Sickles, and the chocolate on the Knight Bus is 3 Sickles per piece.)

While paying, he also joked with the ticket seller to dilute the latter's surprise when he heard that a little wizard wanted to eat "13" chocolates by himself.

The reason why Bourne wanted so many pieces of chocolate was that he had Ryan, who was partly kneazle, as a pet, so he rarely ate food containing chocolate.

I came across it during this trip, so I might as well try it once.

Secondly, he was indeed a little hungry now.

His "psychic precognition" has lasted for more than twenty minutes, from the time he encountered Umbridge's troubles at the Ministry of Magic, to the time he secretly used Transfiguration and Apparition, and then to the time he took the Knight Bus from Surrey!

For wizards in the Harry Potter world, magic power is actually linked to physical strength. When magic power is consumed to a certain level, the wizard will become exhausted.

Although Bourne's physique is special, even unimaginable for ordinary wizards, the magic of "psychic precognition" is indeed too mana-consuming.

There was actually another reason why he wanted thirteen pieces of chocolate, and this reason was also the most important: 13 was the sacred number of the Emperor.

"May that person be with me!" Bourne prayed, then peeled off the tin foil of the chocolate and ate a piece of chocolate in just a few bites.

Then the second piece, the third piece...

A few minutes later, Stan Shunpike's voice came from the front of the car: "We have arrived at Magnolia Crescent Street. You have to get off, little wizard."

Bourne jumped out of bed.

Then, the three-story Knight Bus came to an emergency stop on the side of the road as the driver, named Ern, slammed on the brakes.

Bourne's bed hit another bed next to it with a "bang", and like dominoes, one bed after another fell over.

"Merlin's beard!"

Stan Shunpike exclaimed, and then he quickly patted the driver, Ern, on the shoulder.

"Don't start yet, I'll go take care of it."

It was precisely because of this small change that an oncoming dump truck almost rear-ended the Knight Bus.

First, the Knight Bus was parked on the side of the road without even its taillights on.

Secondly, it was parked right at the corner of the street, in the blind spot of the dump truck when it turned.

Finally, the driver of the dump truck was holding a bottle of whiskey, taking a gulp and then pouring it on his hair and body...

"Emergency shelter!"

An African-style dried skull hanging like a pendant on the Knight Bus's rearview mirror suddenly opened its mouth and shouted at the driver. Then, Ern subconsciously pushed the gear lever.

It was as if a divine sharp invisible boat spell swept through it, and the bus body was suddenly split in two from the middle, and then quickly moved to both sides.

Just like that, the dump truck that turned the steering wheel sharply passed between the Knight Buses and avoided a rear-end collision.

"You're still as good as ever, old Ern," said conductor Stan Shunpike, praising his partner while patting his chest in shock.

"Of course I'm an experienced driver." Earn, who was wearing a pair of thick bottle-bottom glasses, turned his head and made an OK gesture to Stan Shunpike.

Many passengers who were awakened also applauded, even Bourne who was about to get off the bus was no exception.

At this moment, the chocolate wrappers that he had peeled off before and had not thrown away were no longer in his hands.

They were now covering the face of the dump truck driver, making it impossible for him to see the road ahead. In a panic, he stepped on the accelerator instead of the brake.

After receiving money from a stranger, he should have turned at the next intersection, then found a little boy standing on the roadside looking around and bumped into him.

However, because of the sudden appearance of the wrapping paper, he screamed in fear and drove the dump truck off the road and into a small ditch beside the road. When he struggled to climb out, he was so frightened that he didn't remember the little boy.

He just wants to go back to his home now.

"Another bullet wasted."

Not far away, on the top of a five-story building, a bald man was looking at the driver of a dump truck through the scope, cursing under his breath.

"Fuck it, I have to pay extra money when I go back!"

However, just as the bald man, who undoubtedly looked more like a professional killer than the dump truck driver, was about to pull the trigger, an unexpected voice suddenly sounded behind him.

"I can't compensate you. Trust me, you can't fire a single bullet."

Oh no, someone is attacking us!

The killer was so frightened that he shuddered all over and was about to stand up, but then he felt a pain at the back of his head and then he fell into a baby-like sleep.

Bourne, who was holding a baseball bat in his hand, glanced at the string of Roman numerals "XLVII" (47) tattooed on the back of the bald man's head, and just shook off the bloodstains on the bat named "Triple Speed" indifferently before putting it away.

"Bald head with tattoos, why do you have to dress like Erebus..."

Saying the name, no, just thinking of the name, made Bourne feel a little nauseous, and he couldn't help but spit.

“It was pitch dark, luckily I have good eyesight, or I would have almost taken out my chainsword.

You're welcome!"

After he finished the last sentence, before he even uttered the final “s”, Bourne raised his foot and kicked the man off the roof of the fifth floor.

The man was in a coma, and his head was buried in a metal trash can in the alley downstairs, which can be considered as a complete garbage sorting.