HP's Foreign Land

After Snow returned home, the first thing Heimdall said was: "Draco Malfoy knows."

Snow dropped his briefcase and sank into the sofa.

"what happened?"

There was no complaint or blame, which made the boy who had been worried all afternoon breathe a sigh of relief.

"We had an appointment today, and for some reason, I led him to the house, and then led him into the room in a feverish manner, and then... that's it."

Snow lazily folded his arms. "Why do I feel that you have overlooked many details?"

"No. Even if there is, it's irrelevant."

The man raised an eyebrow, "Is this your attitude of admitting your mistakes? Or is it because you have a bigger backer that you don't take me seriously?"

Heimdall pulled a bitter face, "Did you take the wrong medicine? We are talking about Draco Malfoy now, not your respectable and lovely brother."

"Pay attention to your tone, that is your father in name."

Heimdall simply shut up, he is now a standard offender.

Snow couldn't hold his breath for a while, and said, "You really want to go to Durmstrang that much?"

For some reason, the boy suddenly knew the elegant meaning when he heard the string song.He stuck to the man's side and said softly: "Snow, admit it, you just can't bear to part with me. This is not something to be embarrassed about, on the contrary, you take in a homeless orphan unconditionally, which will make you look very embarrassed." Wei-"

The needle-like pain in the back of the neck warned Heimdall that enough was enough, and he did.

The man glanced sideways at him casually, and said flatly, "It's over? Then it's my turn. Don't worry, now the Malfoy family can't do anything even if they know about it. At most, they can talk about nothing that doesn't matter."

"...May I ask why?"

"Of course dear." Snow remained expressionless. "Your name has been recorded in the genealogy of the Stulusson family. Unless Rommel suddenly can't think of using the power of the patriarch to erase it, otherwise you will be a member of our family all your life, and you will only be a ghost of our family when you die. .”

# # #

That was a sign of trouble.

Snow Sturluson was not pleased with its presence.

"You are too strict with yourself. Try to relax a bit, laugh when you want, cry when you want, love when you should love, don't suppress yourself, tomorrow is not the end of the world."

This came from a joke his cousin Osam Dalton said to him.

The Dalton family in the United Kingdom is known as the cradle of smart people. Every generation of their family has graduated from Ravenclaw College in Hogwarts.Only intelligent students are chosen, as house founder Rowena Ravenclaw insisted.Osam was destined to be chosen by this academy from the day he was born-smart and vivid.And it was no surprise that he successfully graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and later rose all the way in the Ministry of Magic.

However, a life that is too smooth will always miss something in the process of studying, such as: learning when enough is enough.

So when the cousin finished his announcement triumphantly, Snow turned around and left without giving his cousin a chance to speak.

Facts have proved that his choice is correct.

But the facts also proved that Rowena Ravenclaw is indeed a visionary wise man.

Osam's words turned out to be a prophetic omen.

Snow Sturluson loathes all visions that cannot be explained and are called "signs".He hates things that cannot be grasped, and scoffs at the illusory and grotesque.He respected the late Cassandra Trelawney, an internationally renowned seer, but that didn't mean he wanted to take her word for it.People in the family said he was rigid.He does not reject this statement, he would rather be an antique than artificially emotional.

Snow is especially disdainful of the many "touching" ancestors of the family from ancient times to the present.

Director Sturluson was working on Quidditch.He believes that this is a rigorous and noble sport, because it must be won through precise and perfect schedule records, a large number of tactical arrangements, and field drills.Quidditch has nothing to do with nothingness, it only has decimals, and the number 150 is reliable.

Snow liked things to go as they should.This has always been the case.

That year, the Department of Magical Sports and Sports elected a new director. In his opinion, the inauguration ceremony could not be simpler, but everyone showed incredible fanaticism, as if everyone became the Minister of Magic overnight.He was fed up with the out-of-control situation, so he flatly rejected Shangfeng's offer and remained in his original position.

He knew the move was a disappointment to the Ministry.He had no intention of delving into the witty whispers behind the scenes.Snow Sturluson will not judge himself for nonsense public opinion.

Perhaps, as the current Director of Magical Sports and Sports said, he is a rigid stubborn.

"Stubborn? This is what Rodo Bagman said of you? Shallow Englishman." The eldest brother has always had his own thoughts and opinions. "No, Snow, it will never be stubbornness. It is arrogance. It is a heavy burden of an ancient family, passed down from the ancestors, flowing in every vein of your blood."

"Rommel's words were always sharp and... vivid."

Ossam, who is half-British, understood the words in a slanted way-he was a smart man.Smart people know how to make life easier for themselves.

However, Snow discovered through various signs in recent years that he is not a smart person.

It's hard to imagine that the genius Snow Strulusson, who was proud of his family since he was a child, would think that he is not smart enough.

Just because of the uneasiness that continued to haunt him.

Anxiety called [Heimdall].

Snow tried to curb the growth of this trend of thought.Self-control is an instinct that a wizard, especially a wizard of considerable status, should possess.Although this is very difficult to do.He even appreciated Rommel's whim from the bottom of his heart, and maybe taking Rieger out of his life would allow him to return to the original and regain his original focus.But there was always a different voice in his heart that was obstructing his plan, and this shout frustrated him.

Osam, who sees everything in his eyes, told him: "Humans always overestimate the value of what they don't have."

Snow smiled bitterly, "That's right, because of this, grapes that cannot be caught will always be sour."

# # #

Heimdall held his toothbrush suspiciously.

And the man who was supposed to work at the Ministry of Magic was sitting on the sofa in a well-dressed manner, sipping tea and reading "Gideroy Lockhart Teaches You to Get Rid of Household Pests" at the moment.

The boy rushed into the bathroom to spit the foam out of his mouth and rinse his mouth and face as fast as he could.When everything was ready, he re-entered the small living room—the person was still there, and he was not dazzled.

"The Department of Magical Sports and Sports has started to implement two days off every week?"

"The Minister does not advocate Muggle policies. Whether they are good or bad."

Heimdall threw himself on the sofa, looking critically at the book. "Don't you appreciate Mr. Lockhart very much?"

"His character has nothing to do with his book. As far as I am concerned, the content of the book is very good, only the author's name is regrettable."

"……Feel sorry?"

"You don't need to understand this trivial matter." Snow put down his book and teacup, and turned to look at Heimdall. "The plan has been advanced. Rommel plans to send you to Durmstrang after Christmas."

Heimdall was taken aback, "But... I will only turn 11 next year." Isn't Durmstrang welcoming new students in September like Hogwarts?What's the matter with enrolling in halfway?

"This school is not so fussy about this. I went there when I was eight years old."

Heimdall suddenly realized: No wonder "Dad" always made a fuss about this before, it turns out that "Uncle" is a gifted child.

"Then how old were you when you graduated?"

"15."

Shocking figures.

"Does this have something to do with you not going to work today?" There is still half a month before Christmas, he can't stay at home all the time, right?

Snow hugged his shoulders, satisfied to find such intimacy refreshing.

"I intend to do what an elder should do, to please my nephew as much as possible, and to make him happy."

In the name of Merlin!Which country promotes moral conduct?

"You don't have to be so polite," Heimdall said ignorantly. "So far, you have provided me with food and shelter, and you have dragged me until I was 10 years old with snot and tears. I am very grateful. Speaking of which, It's up to me to please you."

Snow smiled, as if playing a prank. "I accept," he said. "I'm waiting for you to please."

For a moment the boy felt himself falling into something, but he couldn't say what it was.

Like a dark omen.

# # #

It's Florin's Cold Drinks again.

He recently coincided with the magnetic field of this store, and he always bears the brunt of it whether he meets or stops.

"Honey, what do you want to eat?" Seeing the warm smiles on the shopkeeper's face, Snow was much more approachable than the noble Master Malfoy.

"Two mixed ice cream sundaes."

Florin walked away steadily.

Heimdall raised his eyebrows, "The sundaes here are not small, especially the ones with mixed flavors are the best."

Snow leaned forward. "There is nothing in the law that makes it heinous to waste ice cream."

The shopkeeper will definitely go to the Ministry of Magic to protest this.

The whole morning was basically spent in Muggle London.Snow asked Heimdall to take him around the shops he frequented regularly: coffee bean sellers, clothing stores, pastry shops, supermarkets, etc., and even went to a long-established smoked fish shop.

Snow even ate the fried fish and potato chips that Heimdall bought back and forth, and his evaluation was rather vague.

Back in the wizarding world, after resting at the cold drink shop in Diagon Alley, they started their afternoon itinerary—preparing for admission.

Based on the fact that Heimdall already has Olar, the owl shop can be ignored.

Their first choice was the Ollivander store.

When the two entered the store, the owner, Ollivander, was tremblingly holding a thick book and reading.Seeing them coming, he immediately put down the things in his hands and asked in surprise, "Are you finally planning to come back to work?"

Heimdall hadn't really been seen since the last time he scurried down Diagon Alley with the Weasleys.The meeting with Draco a few days ago was also limited to a corner.To be honest, many shopkeepers miss him a lot.The old man Ollivander is also one of them. After all, the old man and the young have a revolutionary friendship for many years.

Heimdall said with a smile: "Sorry boss, I won't be back for a while. Can I apply for paid leave?"

"So how long are you going to rest?"

"Conservatively, seven years from Christmas this year."

Ollivander's large silver eyes were fixed.

"Hogwarts?"

"Durmstrang."

"Oh, of course, of course." The old man muttered to himself, "Hogwarts will be in September next year." Then he straightened his face and put on a business expression. "It's an honor for Ollivander to have Mr. Sturluson and Master Sturluson come to visit the shop."

Snow smiled gracefully and kindly.

Heimdall twitched the corner of his mouth. "I am ready."

He waited while Ollivander pulled out his tape measure to measure himself.Too bad the old man didn't do that at all.Instead, he walked out directly from behind the counter, clutching a small, long and thin box that came out of an unknown cabinet—light green and painted with small white flowers.

When Heimdall opened the box, he said without thinking, "Why aren't you surprised?"

Oddly enough, Ollivander knew what he was referring to. "As you know, you were not born when the first wand was sold in this shop. The magicians took away their 'partners' from me. There will be more or less signs in the front. He may not be able to detect it himself, but the wand will. Well, now, let's try this one, and if it doesn't work . . . then we'll see."

All the orchids in the vase withered at that moment.Including those that are too late to bloom.

Heimdall opened his eyes wide, feeling a little at a loss as he raised his wand.

The old man nodded. "Twelve inches."

"How much should I pay?"

What?That's all right?Heimdall found out that the two of them had actually started to hand over the money and deliver the goods, so he hurriedly said, "Don't you need to try something else?"

"Zhang Xin has chosen you."

Hearing this, he lowered his head and carefully looked at the thing in his hand: the style is very ordinary, the whole body of the stick is dark and green, with a few small flowers carved out of the handle, and the tiny hollows reveal purple red like stars.The carving is exquisite, but the position of the carving is not ideal, who can see it when holding it?

Wait... The more Heimdall looks familiar, the more familiar the more something is wrong.He suddenly put something under his nose, and sure enough, a sweet fruity fragrance floated into his nasal cavity.He quickly looked at the window, and there was a finely crafted high-end product lying on the shabby purple cushion.And the root in his hand is its appointment.

At almost the same moment, Ollivander muttered in relief, "It's finally sold."

Heimdall's face changed slightly.

There is a saying in the wizarding world: Applewood wands don't work well

Unfortunately, the previous exhibit was the product of a joke that Ollivander made out of apple tree trunks when he had nothing to do.It is conceivable that in the field of payment of money and money, it is the so-called unsalable goods that cannot be sold.

Think he, Heimdall Strulusson, actually resonated with a slow-moving product.Could this be the legendary Skynet retribution?

Before leaving the store, Ollivander whispered to Snow: "The heart of the staff is the heart tendon of thestrals. This is the reason why it has not been sold. It is hard for the world to imagine that the process of experiencing, enduring, and even seeing through death requires What a price to pay. Thestrals may not be as powerful as dragons, unicorns or phoenixes, but it knows the truth of death better than any of them. This is a very special and sad ability."

The old man sighed, "What has that child experienced?"

Snow felt that his heart was being pierced and dissected by a short dagger.He sighed, "Unfortunately, I can't give you an answer."