HP's Foreign Land

"Letter from Heimdall Strulusson to Draco Malfoy, February 1992, 2"

dear draco,

The new term looks like a disaster, mind you, this is by no means an allusion to the outspoken British media and the witty news coverage.

I loved the report about me in the Daily Prophet: "We have reason to believe that the hypocritical young man hid in a corner unnoticed, smiling and waiting for all the players to fall", "Using him His cleverness and the forces behind him lure other contestants, confuse the audience, mislead the referees, play tricks on the Sugar Mouse Foundation, which is stuck in the mud, and make them believe in their innocence and greatness", "As a serious and responsible journalist , I think I should give everyone the truthful feedback of what I saw and heard.”

God, am I really the protagonist in this report?I thought it was a political leader of a certain country who was being criticized by an enemy country.By the way, what is the reporter's name? Forgive me. Recently, my memory has declined, and my mind is full of homework...

Seeing this, Draco couldn't help gnashing his teeth. "Rita Skeeter!" he squeezed the words through his teeth.

The other Slytherins sitting at the long table couldn't help but glance sideways, and Draco's terrifying expression made them wonder how to speak.

Or say something happy.

The gift you sent should have arrived with the letter.That rectangular box is for you, please donate the other two paper boxes assembled together to your father Lingtang.It took a lot of time to choose gifts in Bulgaria, and I was still not sure what to give you, especially your parents, I don't know what they like.Later, Bernick's mother helped to come up with the idea of ​​two matching couple perfumes. It is said that when the two scents are mixed together, they will cause unexpected and excellent effects... I think you can understand what I mean? !I hope your father will like it.

Draco smiled. "Papa will love it, no doubt about it," he murmured.

February 2th is Muggle Valentine's Day, although I don't know if you have a sweetheart, and I sent the letter late, if it was two days earlier, the gift I gave you would definitely play a vital role .

In fact, Draco had already opened the gift that belonged to him, and now it was lying quietly on the Slytherin table in front of him.

"Oh! Draco! This is so beautiful!"

The piercing scream quickly alerted Draco, and he turned to stare at the uninvited hand reaching over the box. "Pansy Parkinson, I solemnly warn you, take back your claws immediately!" He clanged in an ominous tone.

The girl shrank her neck and sat back in her original position.

The Slytherins all saw the rectangular box and what was inside.Draco seemed to be displaying the gifts Heimdall had sent him openly in a show-off manner.Of course, his generosity is limited to this.Check it out, no problem.Touch it with your hands?Don't think about it!

It was a rose of rich color and fragrance, like the stuff of dreams.It is sealed in a transparent cover, but the whole branch flowers are as delicate and dripping as if they were just picked. The rich and elegant fragrance seeps out from the thin crystal wall, drifts around and lingers, and all the Slytherins who smell this smell are exposed dreamy happy expression.

"It is said that the goddess who planted this rose watered it with her own blood. ’ Heimdall told Draco in the letter. "The legend is just a legend, but its fragrance can really make people put aside their troubles for a while.It's amazing, it's said that it's the talent of this flower.Smell it when you are in a bad mood.Send my most sincere wishes and hope you are happy, Draco. 』

Feeling that it was almost done, Draco carefully put the lid back on.The sudden cessation of the scent made many Slytherins feel very disappointed. They stared at the box intently, as if by doing so they would be able to smell the wonderful scent again.

Children from wealthy families began to wonder about the source of roses, hoping to get one, or a few for themselves...

"This thing is really good." Several classmates who usually have a good relationship with Draco began to get close. "Can it be bought in England?" they murmured in low voices.

Draco feigned indifference. "It was a gift from someone else, and I don't think the UK can buy it."

The other discerning Slytherins immediately showed disappointment, but not despair.

"What a pity," someone said.

"That's right." Another person agreed.

Draco raised his head involuntarily, but tried to look unconcerned. "It's just a flower," he said. "Let's eat your breakfast quickly, it's time for class."

Suddenly, commotion came from the side of the Gryffindor long table. Draco paused, and after hesitating again and again, he stood up, picked up a small cloth bag on the table, and walked towards the source of the commotion under the surprised eyes of everyone. go.

***

"My Merlin! How could she make up a pie like that?!" Ron Weasley yelled, spraying food from his mouth onto the table.

"Oh, that's disgusting..." Hermione Granger quickly turned her head away and moved to the side.

Ron didn't notice it, and went to the erected newspaper to scan line by line. "Harry, don't move, let me read it!" When he found that his friend was about to put down the newspaper, he shouted loudly.

"What are you looking at?" Hermione said puzzled, Ron's behavior was extremely abnormal.

Ron Weasley turned a deaf ear to it and was absorbed in the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. "Nonsense! It's a bunch of nonsense!" He slumped back on the chair and said angrily. "How could Rigg be so, so insidious..."

"Who's Rigg?" asked Harry Potter, who was finally able to put the paper down.

Ron motioned him to turn the paper over, then pointed to the photo and said, "That's him, Heimdall Strulusson, but we'll call him Rigg."

Hermione glanced at the paper. "Is he your friend?"

"Yes, he lived in my house for a while. His uncle was an official in the Ministry of Magic, and he was in charge of Quidditch."

"You never mentioned it." Harry looked up.

"Really? Didn't I say that?" Ron touched his nose, lowered his head and took a bite of the cake, and said in a daze, "I don't seem to have said that..."

"Durmstrang." Harry looked at the writing. "Is it the Durmstrang Academy, one of the three major magic schools in Europe?"

Ron nodded. "Rigg is amazing, he became a double champion in the first grade." As if thinking of something, he laughed happily.

"It says that his championship title is tricky." Hermione poured cold water on it mercilessly. "It's open to debate exactly how that happened."

Ron's smile disappeared. "Rita Skeeter, it's that woman again, she's the one who makes things up every time!" He swallowed the last bit of cake angrily.

Hermione was just about to say something, but suddenly her eyes widened, she raised her head slightly, and her gaze fell above.

Ron and Harry turned their heads at the same time.

Draco Malfoy was standing behind them, and for the first time, he didn't say a word of offensive vitriol, but glanced at the "Daily Prophet" on the table. "I didn't expect Weasley's judgment to be expected." He snorted coldly.

It was impossible for Malfoy to be friendly, but his performance today was enough to scare the Gryffindors, even the Slytherins.

"What are you going to do?" Ron yelled defensively without thinking.

Draco narrowed his eyes and threw the cloth bag in Ron's hands.Just when the latter was frantically guessing what "lethal weapon ammunition" was inside, Draco raised his eyebrows, and a sneer flashed in his eyes: "Rig asked me to forward it, keep it well."

Ron's face flushed bright red. "Thank you." After dawdling for a while, he said reluctantly. "Wait!" He narrowed his eyes. "Why did you forward it? Why didn't he send it to me directly?" How could you leave this kind of thing to Malfoy? !

"He tried to write to you, but you didn't reply." Draco told him blankly. "He said he wasn't sure if you still remembered this friendship, so he didn't dare to act rashly. Do you think that's all I want to give to the weasel?" The words became uncontrollably mean.

In view of his fault, Ron pursed his lips and did not find any words to refute.

Draco took out a neatly folded newspaper from his pocket and threw it on the table in front of Ron. "You can look at this."

Ron stared at it for a while, then raised his head and said, "I don't understand..." These words seem to be understandable when taken apart, but they don't know when put together.

Draco coughed uncomfortably, quickly took back the German newspaper, and put another one on.

"The Quibbler?" Hermione could hardly believe her eyes. "Can I read this thing? This newspaper is really... too, too imaginative!" Miss Granger always believed that "The Quibbler" was completely a garbage publication with 100% fantasy and zero academic content.

"Of course I can." Ron pretended not to understand what she said, and looked down cheerfully. "Honestly, The Quibbler is more interesting than the Daily Prophet."

Draco raised his voice and said like alms: "This newspaper is for you." Then, he turned and left.He was very satisfied with his performance today, and he felt that if Rigg was there, he would definitely be praised for it.

Behind him, Ron muttered angrily: "Aren't the Malfoy family very rich, a newspaper is worth it, and he is too stingy." Turning his head inadvertently, he found his friend Harry's expression was a bit dazed. "What's wrong with you? Are you uncomfortable?"

Harry Potter shook his head immediately. "I just think Malfoy's behavior is weird today..." he said hesitantly.

"I think so too," agreed Ron. "This kind of attitude can be called 'friendly' on him. If someone told me yesterday that Malfoy would behave like this, I would think this person is crazy."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the book.

***

In the early morning of the same day, in the student cafeteria of Durmstrang.

The first graders are rushing to do their homework, the holidays have relaxed their nerves, and the sudden order to return to school has not played its due role. The problem of procrastination and reluctance to do homework appears in almost everyone.Everyone gathered around the long table, writing hard and fast, no matter right or wrong, let's fill up the parchment first.

Thomas dropped the quill first, surrendered and shouted: "I must be grateful to anyone who lends me a copy after finishing it."

"Which one do you want to copy?" asked the classmate next to him.

"Transfiguration."

The classmate immediately said bluntly: "I think you should write it yourself."

Thomas searched for a while, and finally set his sights on Heimdall who could write two homework at the same time. "It's all up to you, Rigg," he said in a tone of pleading pathos.

Heimdall raised his eyes: "My transfiguration homework has been handed in."

"What?!" There was a loud howl on the long table.

The deafening howl stunned Heimdall for a while. "I handed it in yesterday..." He curled his neck and whispered.

The first graders fell down in an instant, and they all lay down on the table for a long time as if they were resting - it turned out that everyone had the same idea.

"Is Mr. Heimdall Strulusson here?"

Hearing the call, Heimdall stood up and looked towards the cafeteria door. "I am, what's the matter?"

A man in a light green uniform came over, followed by a student council officer.Any outsider will be accompanied by a teacher or fellow student upon entering the school.As for whether the person sent to supervise is a teacher or a student, it mainly depends on the identity of the person outside the school and what he wants to do.

"There is your package." The man said, feeling from his cross-body backpack, and then he lifted out a large wooden box that was almost as tall as Heimdall. Seeing the man's calm look, this thing should not be heavy . "Please sign for it." The man handed over a pen and paper, and Heimdall wrote down his name.

"What's in here?" Heimdall asked while holding the big wooden box.

The man handed over a white envelope and said with a smile, "Sorry, I was told never to disclose it, but I can tell you that the contents inside are very good."

Heimdall held the envelope, supported the box, and watched the courier leave in a daze.

"Wow——" all the first graders gathered around.

"What's in it?"

"Take it apart and see."

"What are you in a hurry for? It's not for you."

Thomas and Carlo Jones worked together to support the wooden box from left to right. "Rig, open it and have a look first." Jones urged impatiently.

The lid of the wooden box is very light, and it was a bit heavy when the force was applied at first, but when the force continued to be applied, the lid was lifted up at once.

Behind the box is a sea of ​​flowers.

The irises, like flying butterflies, lie on the dark silver silk cloth, like a whole box of static butterflies.

Carlo Jones picked one up from the box, raised his eyebrows and said, "Iris, a variant of silver-blue butterfly, is unique to Liechtenstein, and the international price of each flower is 117 gold galleons." Exclaim.

"One flower can be worth a set of designer clothes." Thomas was speechless.

The other first graders also chattered.

All the eyes of the cafeteria were focused, and the big wooden box filled with silver and blue butterflies naturally became the focus of everyone's attention.

Heimdall looked at the wooden box dumbly, then lowered his head, opened the envelope in his hand, and took out the letter paper inside.There are only two simple lines on it——

I saw the silver blue butterfly yesterday and suddenly thought of you.

Matches well with your eye color.

Signed: Adam Krauss

"How do you feel?"

Heimdall looked up at Leon upon hearing this. "How should we deal with it?" He said nervously. "Do you want it from the potion laboratory? I heard that iris is the raw material of several anti-inflammatory potions that work well."

Leon stared at the big wooden box, and muttered, "These flowers can allow the potion laboratory to make anti-inflammatory potions for three years without interruption."