HP's Foreign Land

The information address Voldemort gave points to Spain, which is still a small inland town. The weather in May is still a buffer period before the scorching heat, and those who are new to this place can already feel the vigorous enthusiasm that is ready to go.

"One thing makes me think it's not too bad. This time it's only the two of us who are visiting under the banner of the mysterious person. If anyone else comes, I doubt I will strike." Snape was in a bad mood, and the climate in the interior of Spain Upsetting the Potions professor from England, and occasionally insinuating that there are an outrageous number of Muggle tourists here.

It’s not even July or August, dubbed “Europe’s Great Population Swap.”

"Which way? The You-Know-Who or Professor Dumbledore?" Heimdall's snickering lips were carefully hidden in the shadow of the cloak.

Snape gave him an irritated look, and the latter wisely chose to forget about the question.

"You don't seem to be very sensitive to changes in temperature," said Snape.

Heimdall didn't want to provoke him, so he said vaguely, "I came to Spain to investigate Di Rupo's Muggle relatives."

"Hope the companions back then weren't too bad." Snape didn't forget his dry humor.

"He's a nice guy."

"Nice guy, um, reminds me of those Hogwarts over-energy guys who pretend to be trying to be nice." Snape finally produced his handkerchief.

Heimdall knew who he was talking about, thanks to the mask covering his face, he didn't have to think about what expression to put on.

"Maybe you should try to get to know him and discover the bright spots that you ignored before, so that you can get along well. After all, he is..." Your sweetheart's only child.

"No, I think it's perfect now. Our 'missing' for each other only exists when we can't see each other. When we face each other, there will always be points deducted and points deducted."

Heimdall laughed, "I feel sorry for Gryffindor's year-end total."

Snape sighed angrily, "It's a pity that I don't have a valid reason to deduct points now. This is the only thing that bothers me when I become a vice headmaster."

"Perhaps you can go for a walk in places where students come and go frequently. You know, some children prefer to run rather than walk. Durmstrang forbids students to run in corridors and other places. I don't know if Hogwarts is the same."

Snape's tone sounded calm, "Experienced, Mr. Sturluson?"

"No. I'm the deputy prefect. For a while, I liked walking in the corridor. New officials always have to show their actual achievements to let everyone remember you."

"Fine." Snape nodded curtly.This signal tells the other party that the conversation is over.

They fell silent and proceeded on the rough cobbled road. There was a babbling sound. They both looked up at the same time and saw a rusty signboard with a mottled painting on it. In the painting was an empty wine glass. .A typical bar drawing would choose a glass filled with alcohol.

The Empty Glass is the only wizarding bar in the area, and its traffic is directly proportional to the number of tourists in the interior of Spain.Dim lighting and dirt-covered windows reminded Heimdall of the Hog's Head Pub in Hogsmeade Village. He looked down at the simple wooden table, which was relatively clean, without obvious greasy reflections.

The two uninvited guests were dressed very much like Death Eaters. Before they acted, they decided not to change their black cloaks, but there was no one in the bar... To be precise, there was no one except the wizard sitting by the corner window.The boss is invisible behind the humble bar.

The shadow was cast, and the wizard in the corner straightened his back, did not look back, did not raise his head, and did not take any action to find out the other party's details, as if he knew who was approaching him (or her).

"Mr. Ansoni?" Snape hesitated.

It was certainly not the man's real name, Snape could bet his life on it.

"Sit down, please," said Mr. Ansoni.

The voice sounded like a man, or at least they wanted them to think he was a man.

Heimdall didn't move, and after Snape sat down, he stood behind the professor.

Ansoni wears a wide wizard cloak, and like them, his facial features are hidden in the deep cloak hat, which indicates that this is a "no-meet" meeting.

Snape didn't know how to start the conversation. Up to now, he didn't know what the mysterious man asked him to discuss with the wizard in front of him, what to contact, and what he wanted to get from him.All the professor can do is wait passively. He believes that this is no more dangerous than being a double agent with the mysterious man.

After leaving the UK, those youthful things that now seem to be particularly stupid often sprang out when he was unable to guard against them, flying uncontrollably and domineeringly in his dreams, hinting to him time and time again how vulnerable he was back then, how vulnerable he was. vulnerable.To be honest, if he had another chance to choose, he would never agree to stay at Hogwarts as a teacher, and it was a Potions professor he didn't like very much.He should have been sharper and tougher back then, so that the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor wouldn't always be vacillating among wizards who couldn't learn to use their IQ.

"I basically agree to the request made by the Dark Lord." Mr. Ansoni's voice pulled back the imaginative Snape.

Different from the politeness just now, this is a relatively long sentence, and Heimdall frowned slightly at the moment the voice sounded.

Snape was even more bewildered, agree to what?What request did the mysterious man make again?It's a pity that he can't ask too directly. From the analysis of the attitude of the wizard in front of him and the performance of the mysterious man, this Mr. Ansoni has more frequent contact with the mysterious man than they estimated.

"Can you be more specific?" Snape pretended not to be impressed.

Mr. Ansoni fell silent.

"Please forgive me, I need to report to the master about today's meeting in detail, you can't just give me such a simple answer." Snape pointed out calmly.

Ansoni seemed to be worried about something, and after a while, when they thought he would walk away, he made a compromise.

"I am very grateful to the Dark Lord for appreciating my research project and willing to believe in its great achievements in the end. He provided me with the help he can, for which I am grateful, so I am willing to give my all to the completion of the Dark Lord's career force."

Snape suddenly realized that this passage was not a good omen, that the mysterious man was planning something secretly, and everyone—including Dumbledore, knew nothing about it, at least until he left England. in the dark.

"How is your research project going? Any breakthroughs?" Snape asked cautiously.

Although he didn't want to admit it, Snape still had to say he was taking a risk, and he blamed it all on the influence of the frizzy young people around him, and it's too early to say whether the effect of this influence is good or not bad.The key lies in the answer of Mr. Ansoni in front of him.

"It shouldn't be far from a complete resurrection." Like all wizards who are obsessed with experiments, Ansoni lost control when talking about his research, and his voice raised unconsciously. It's a pity that he couldn't see his face, trust his eyes Jiongjiong, with an agitated expression.

Snape forced himself to be calm, "A new type of Inferi?"

Ansoni suddenly calmed down, and let out a contemptuous snort from his nasal cavity.

"Don't compare the outdated things like Nether Corpse with my great research. My research can stimulate the potential of wizards, making them extremely powerful, invincible in wars, and easily crushing the opponent into powder."

Snape murmured, "I still know some potions for enhancing potential..."

The water glasses and bottles on the table were swept to the ground. After the rattling noise, there was a deathly silence. Ansoni stood up, propped his hands on the edge of the table, and fixed his eyes on Snape, who was speaking rudely, from behind the cloak. The latter remained motionless.

"I said, don't confuse those childish things that three-year-olds would dismiss with my research." Ansoni seemed very angry, with bulging veins on the backs of both hands, as if he was trying his best to restrain his emotions.

He is a sensitive and irritable person, and Heimdall made a place for him in his heart, then he glanced at Ansoni's exposed hands.Heimdall noticed something, and the blurry image flashed in his mind, but he couldn't catch it.

"I apologize if my remarks offended you." Snape said neither humble nor overbearing. "You have your dignity, and I also have principles that I must abide by. For the sake of my master, I must ask in detail." It is simply a model of the top ten Death Eaters of the year. After retreating, after experiencing ups and downs, he gained Voldemort's attention. In addition to Dumbledore's protection, the professor's own acting skills are truly powerful.

Ansoni sat down, put his hands back into his cloak, seemed to accept Snape's words, and was no longer aggressive.

As soon as Heimdall was lost, he almost caught something.

"You mean the mysterious man wants to strengthen his own strength?" Hollingworth hesitated.

"That's the first guess, but both Rigg and I think the other guess is more reliable." Snape mused.

"Another guess, Sturlusson?" Hollingworth turned to Heimdall.

"It leans more towards him wanting to inflict this kind of experiment on followers, or some other wizard."

Hollingworth understood, "Like Grindelwald, build your own army?"

Heimdall nodded, "I think there is a basis for this assumption. From my experience these days, Voldemort is not satisfied with his subordinates, but right now he has to give in to his incompetent subordinates because he has nothing else to do. Useful talent. When this kind of dissatisfaction accumulates to a certain height, he will definitely take action. He can't let the rabble under his hands hinder his expectation of unifying the world. Judging from that Ansoni's words, Voldemort has long hooked up with him It may have happened earlier—perhaps even earlier, even uncharacteristically, he did not hesitate to spend time with the other party, communicate with the other party, communicate on a spiritual level, calm his emotions, and put on some encouraging gestures, all in order to make Ansoni's research come out as soon as possible."

As for whether the mysterious man is going to kill the donkey after the goal is achieved or whether he will be rewarded for his merits, it is currently unknown.Someone who sticks to the definition of "great" before the results of the study may actually form a wonderful friendship with Britain's worst megalomaniac, after all, they share a common language.A mere English country does not need to be so labor-intensive. Is it possible that the mysterious person is going to rush out of the UK and step into the world?

"You-Know-Who's goals have never changed," Snape said. "So I'm not surprised by this finding."

Heimdall suddenly realized, "The establishment of a pure wizarding world must not only refer to the British Isles." To put it bluntly, it means inheriting and carrying forward the fearless spirit of the pioneers, clearing the wizarding world, and carrying the purity to the end.

Hollingworth rubbed the bridge of his nose with a headache, "Another one who feels good about himself."

"You can formally get in touch with Professor Dumbledore about this matter, I'm afraid it won't help if you make a small fuss." Snape pondered, "I'll go talk to Bellatrix." He has always been loyal to this matter. For a witch who considers herself a good general, the mysterious man's secret plan is nothing less than a heavy blow.

Hollingworth reminded him to be careful.

The professor also had a headache, "Maybe I should ask 'Master' for instructions."

"What are you thinking?" Hollingworth noticed that Heimdall had a deep expression on his face. He was not usually like this. He was very active in discussing cases, but today he was as unlit as a candle.

"I think..." Heimdall said vaguely.

"What do you think?"

"I haven't figured it out yet. My mind is a little confused. I'll report to you when I think it over. Please forgive me."

Hollingworth and Snape glanced at each other, seeing confusion on each other's faces.

Heimdall was holding "Madness and Calmness in Wizard Medicine" and sat on the bench by the wooden bridge to rummage through. The students who came and went wanted to say hello to him, but they all stopped thinking when they saw that he was so busy .Thinking that he was reviewing homework in the lower grades, he was overwhelmed by his highly concentrated learning spirit, and several activists followed suit on the spot, walking hurriedly towards the school library.

Turning another page, Heimdall let out a breath, and then opened his mouth to bite the end of the quill pen. With a crackling sound, one-third of the feather on the pen was bitten off by him, and his mouth was still chewing.

After eating a chocolate pudding-flavored feather, Heimdall remembered that the pen was bare and hairless. He dropped the pen tip, took out a package of lifelike refills from the pen case, and picked up a light red strawberry taste.After everything was ready, he lowered his head again, groaning and reading the words on it, biting the quill from time to time and licking it.

When he finished eating three feathers, Draco and Yael appeared by the bench.

Draco sat down directly next to him, and took a citric enzyme-flavored feather from the transparent package in his hand and put it in his mouth.

"This is yours." Yale handed over a photo album.

Heimdall opened it and found that there were photos of the activities they took together. He said happily, "Everyone has it?"

Yael nodded, "There are also photos of us and several professors. I want to take a few more photos before the end of the semester. It is best for every professor to be able to take photos."

"Don't forget to call me when the time comes." Heimdall said quickly, holding Draco back. "And my cousin."

"How could I forget? I still hope to take a few more photos with Professor Krum." Yael grinned, then glanced at the heavy book he was holding in his hands, and said without obvious emotion: "Is there any progress?" It sounds like small talk.

"Not yet." Heimdall bit off a few fluffs covered with icing sugar.

"Sooner or later there will be."

Heimdall paused, and finally chose to pretend nothing had happened.

"You like four-poster beds?"

"There's a sense of security with the curtains around the sides."

"Didn't you get enough sleep in the seven years at school?"

Victor thought for a while, "Probably."

Heimdall stared at the column to fill in the blank and said, "I like a bed with a metal frame."

Victor took the one he had filled out, and saw that it said black cast iron bed frame.

"You like that kind of fence around the flower beds?"

Heimdall blinked, "I didn't notice it unless you said it. Or a wooden canopy bed, it doesn't matter if there is a curtain or not."

"My dear, I think the curtain is necessary," Victor said. "This will increase the privacy, in case the toffee, the pods are running around our room..."

"What you said makes a lot of sense." Chief Sturluson compromised.

"I saw a very nice four-poster bed the other day, maybe next time you can come with me to see it."

Heimdall said in surprise: "Have you already started to pay attention to the furniture business?"

"If you have enough time, you won't be in a hurry. Maybe you can get a satisfactory discount price."

Director Strulusson highly affirmed the master's comprehensiveness.

"Where did you see it?"

"You mean bed?"

"Ah."

"In a house that is about to be demolished, the family owns several good antiques. Although the four-poster bed I like has been repaired twice, the main structure still retains the characteristics of the end of the eighteenth century," said the old man. I rolled my eyes. "No matter the carving or the materials, they are very elegant. The fretwork lattice inserts and the curved headboard are exquisitely made. It is a good thing. I hope I can get it."

Heimdall was speechless, "A bed from the eighteenth century?"

"The main structure was produced in the late eighteenth century."

"That should be expensive..."

"Not quite an antique, but moderately priced."

What Heimdall initially considered was to find a fancy furniture store and buy it now, or to make a bed according to the pattern. The [-]th century is really out of the scope of consideration.

But seeing the master's confident look, he scratched his face, "You can figure it out, don't be too outrageous, you can't hide it from me, your bill will be sent to me."

"I seem to have dug a hole for myself." Victor looked helpless.

Heimdall smiled and kissed him a few times, "Just accept your fate."

Victor took advantage of the trend and turned the warm shallow kiss into a hot tongue kiss, sucked Heimdall's lips for a while, and said contentedly: "You didn't come last weekend, Dad asked me to say hello for him."

Plov is still not used to tabloid newspapers. At the dinner table, his father carefully took out a copy of "Big Talk Daily". Three Jin Jialong "bravely" stood up and broke the news.The last sentence "that's the best sexual experience I've ever had" screamed from the pretty but featureless witch made Plov short of breath, and Victor had never seen his father look so ugly.

At the time of parting, his father warned him not to be too hotheaded to do things that he would definitely regret, and told him not to be sorry to Rigg, otherwise he would regret it just like himself.Victor couldn't help laughing.

"Aren't I angry that I didn't go to Plov?" Heimdall couldn't help feeling uneasy.

"No, I'm just a little disappointed." Victor smiled. "His fishing club has been approved to participate in the A-level amateur competition in Italy. He planned to share this exciting news with you over dinner."

"Oh, what a pity, I'll write to him," said Heimdall quickly.

Victor stroked his face, "I want to thank you, you are the only one of us who has the patience to listen to him tell those funny fishing stories, I know it's boring, even grandma can't bear to listen to it for even 5 minutes."

"You think I'm wronged? No," Heimdall emphasized. "I'm really interested. To be honest, instead of running with you and running out of breath, I would rather follow Pulov to trek through mountains and rivers, explore untouched secret places, and catch big fish."

Victor observed his expression with disbelief.

"I mean, do I have to lie to you?"

Victor sighed and hugged him even tighter, "Thank you."

Heimdall grabbed him with hands and feet like a koala, and happily nibbled on the master's face.

The two checked the answers to the personality registration form for a while, and when it was over, Heimdall put them into the large envelope received with the registration form and sealed it carefully.Go to the desk and write the shipping address on it.

"What's this?" Victor's hand slid to the book on the bedside table.

Heimdall glanced back, "This is not all the activity photos we took, and there will be supplements before the end of the term."

Victor took the photo album in his hand and flipped through it, "It's a good shot, it looks very energetic."

Heimdall smiled, "You have to admit, I look handsome in the photo."

"Isn't that my exclusive description?"

Heimdall shook his head helplessly at the envelope, and was about to complain when Victor suddenly said, "This one is pretty cool."

"Which one?"

"Last time at the Magic Items Fun Tournament, you served as a judge for the underage category of the wand competition."

"Oh, I remember, that time—" the voice stopped abruptly.

Victor raised his eyes in confusion, "What's wrong?"

Heimdall dropped the quill, walked quickly to Victor, took the photo album in his hand and quickly flipped through it, stopped after turning to a certain page, pointed to the little fat man in the photo, and asked, " Do you remember this black fat prick?"

"... Stewart?"

Heimdall gave a "wow" and said frankly, "I don't remember his name at all."

"What happened to him?" Victor was at a loss.

"He had a teacher who looked like a Southern European."

The master recalled it for a long time, "Gucht..."

Heimdall's eyes lit up, "This man is wearing a tail ring, have you noticed it? The ring is not small, very eye-catching."

The master narrowed his eyes, "The pattern is buttercup."

"Golden ring, the bottom is red." Heimdall added.

Victor thought for a moment, then nodded cautiously, "That's right."

Heimdall sat down next to his master, who put his arms around him and kissed his temple.

"what happened?"

"My brick book." Heimdall jumped up and was pulled back by the master.

"I go."

"Just put it on the desk."

Victor returned to the bedside with "Madness and Calm in Wizarding Medicine", sat down beside him again, and hugged him tightly again.

Heimdall leaned on Victor, flipping the pages of the book in his hands.

"Here," he said. "Gaspar Gucht, the late tibial prosthesis therapist at Cyprian Wizarding Hospital, has long been committed to bone restoration and animal wound healing research, and his medical achievements are internationally renowned."

"I haven't heard much about his name." The master admitted that he was ignorant.

"He is an expert in that field. How many of the Cyprian Witch Hospital can reach the international status of Di Rupo? The household name is formed by the combination of the right time, place and people."

"This expert is also named Gucht, you mean he has a relationship with that Professor Gucht?" Victor asked.

Heimdall muttered, "If there is any relationship, it is likely to be a junior in the family. Voldemort's mysterious pen pal I went to meet with the professor happened to be wearing the same ring - black stamen buttercup on a red background. At that time, I only thought it was familiar, but now I want to hear it. That’s where the eerie familiarity comes from the moment he opens his mouth—I’ve seen him and heard him speak. He said his name was Ansoni.”

Victor was silent for a while, "The Ranunculus flower is also called 'the flower of St. Ansoni', and the flower language is 'welcome'."

Heimdall thought for a while, and said, "Hei Chubby welcomes him very much."

Hollingworth sighed, "Damn it..." and added, "I see."

Heimdall waited for a while, but he didn't see the next step from the boss, so he asked strangely, "Shouldn't we take action?"

"The Spanish Ministry of Magic applied for the highest level of entry and exit review at the regular meeting of the International Federation of Wizards yesterday, which means that we can no longer enter and leave Spain at will. If we want to enter that country to investigate cases openly, we must accept a one-week approval."

"A week?" The day lily was cold.

"What a coincidence?" Heimdall pouted.

"Okay, don't worry about this matter, I have my own opinion. You and Peter continue to track down that Ludwig or Brown...no matter what it is, don't take it lightly."

"Understood." Heimdall nodded.

"Karel Di Rupo and Gaspar Gucht have a bad relationship."

Heimdall and Hollingworth followed the sound, and Professor Langer, who was sitting in the armchair, shrugged.

"When I was in prison, I couldn't watch anything but gossip."

"The magazine is for you later," said Hollingworth.

"Sometimes you can't come, and those guard wizards use old newspapers from a long time ago to perfuse me, and I saw it at that time."

"What was reported above?"

"What else can I say about gossip? No matter how dramatic it is, it's nothing more than emotional entanglements, personality conflicts, job competition, who is more popular among colleagues, any excuse seems to turn into an unmanageable tragedy."

Hollingworth frowned, "It can be used as a reference for now."

"There's another theory," Lange said. "Some people had doubts about the cause of Gaspar Gucht's death, and some even said that he was not a natural death like the mainstream media reported. Di Rupo."

"Oh, I've heard this too. There have been rumors circulating among the people that Di Rupo is a murderer who owes his life. It turned out to be Gaspar Gucht."

Langer joked, "As a judge, you are too passive."

"Because I'm a judge, I can't just believe what others say. There is no evidence, no motive, and everything is false information." Hollingworth said firmly. "I don't believe that anyone in the world will be killed for no reason, except for wrongful killing."

Heimdall, who had been silent all this time, said at this time: "It seems that the mysterious Mr. Ansoni seems to be inextricably linked to the Di Rupo incident. Is this a pure coincidence, or is there another mystery?"