The Wind and the Eagle Wings at Hogwarts

Since the three professors had attracted the attention of everyone in the bar, Scott did not hide anything. Instead, he turned his head and looked at them openly.

Suddenly being surrounded by a group of drinkers asking for news, Professor Flitwick looked obviously embarrassed, while Professor McGonagall and Professor Babling were very calm.

In other words, Professor McGonagall is very calm, while Professor Babling is as cold as ever.

"We don't know any more than you do," Professor Flitwick said, "but..."

He hesitated to speak.

"Yes, the mysterious man is really back." Professor McGonagall continued seriously.

Although they were mentally prepared, when they heard Professor McGonagall's affirmative statement, almost everyone present took a breath in unison.

"Really...really?"

Some people probably didn't want to give up and still asked in a trembling tone.

Professor McGonagall nodded affirmatively, "Of course, Dumbledore has already fought against him."

"What's the result...?" The voice of the person who asked the question became even more trembling.

"The mysterious man escaped, taking the dark wizards under his command." Professor McGonagall said in a serious tone, "Of course, the Ministry of Magic also captured a group of Death Eaters."

"Ran away?"

Hearing her say this, the people around him breathed a sigh of relief.

"Very good."

"We still have Dumbledore!"

"Sure enough, only Dumbledore can resist the mysterious man!"

"Dumbledore never disappoints!"

People were grasping at a life-saving straw, desperately praising Dumbledore's greatness.

Even the gap-toothed man sitting next to Scott was no exception.

They no longer even bothered with the still-charming bar owner Ms. Rosmerta, but decisively left the bar, raised their glasses to praise Dumbledore with the others, and tried to find out more information from Professor McGonagall.

Scott chewed a burger in his mouth and watched the scene silently without participating.

Since not everyone in the bar was together, his choice was not unique.

"What's the use of such praise? Dumbledore is only one person. He can't save everyone."

Hearing Ms. Rosmerta speak softly, Scott turned his head and looked at her in surprise.

Ms. Rosmerta served the three professors their drinks and then returned them.

She leaned lazily on the bar, supported her chin with one hand, and winked at Scott.

"What do you think, boy?"

"I don't quite understand." Scott showed a confused expression, "I was still young during the last war and I don't have much memory."

Ms. Rosmerta laughed.

Although a few wrinkles appeared in the corners of her eyes as she smiled, they strangely did not look old.

"Go abroad if you can. This time it may be even more chaotic than the last time." She said to Scott, "Maybe my bar won't be open for a few days."

"Thank you for your advice." Scott said politely.

"You're welcome."

Ms. Rosmerta looked away, waved her wand, and slowly cleaned the wine glass.

Scott continued to turn his attention back to the three professors.

Professor McGonagall just said the news that shocked everyone, but now she refused to speak.

Professor Flitwick was not very good at refusing, so he could only have awkward conversations with those people.

Just then, the sombrero witch who had been loudly singing praises to Medea stood up.

She stretched out her hand to push away the others and staggered to the table of three professors.

"I know more than you." She said unconvinced, "Just last night! Ms. Slytherin also fought with the mysterious man. It is precisely because of this that Dumbledore was able to win the battle with the mysterious man. Win!”

The three professors all looked up at her but said nothing.

"Why don't you talk?"

The witch seemed a little drunk and a little aggressive.

The professors didn't respond yet, but someone next to them said dissatisfiedly: "Who knows whether what you said is true or false?"

"Of course it's true!" the witch retorted in a sharp voice, and even started to yell, "because my husband is there! He is dead! He was killed by a mysterious man!"

The bar became quiet again, and everyone looked at her in shock.

"he died!"

The wine glass in the witch's hand fell to the ground and shattered.

"Shut up, Natalie, we need to go."

An old wizard with gray hair emerged from the crowd, grabbed the witch's arm, and tried to drag her away.

The witch didn't resist, but she followed the old wizard's force and started yelling as she moved away.

"Only Ms. Slytherin can save the wizarding world... Wuwu..."

The old wizard reached out and covered the witch's mouth.

He shouted at Ms. Rosmerta, "Sorry, Rosmerta, we'll come back tomorrow to pay."

"It doesn't matter." Ms. Rosmerta agreed readily.

"let me go!"

The drunken witch began to struggle violently.

"You're drunk, Natalie, don't say those words again." The old wizard persuaded her with a bitter expression.

"Let me go, Dad!"

As the witch struggled, the wide-brimmed hat on her head fell to the ground.

Her expression was full of sadness, and she shouted hysterically, "If that is not true, if Ms. Slytherin can't save us, then what's the point of my husband's past choices and current death! I want to tell everyone that he is Yes!"

After shouting these words, she seemed to lose all her strength in an instant, unable to stand, and collapsed directly on the ground.

The old wizard did not speak, silently picked up her hat, pulled out his wand, and took her away with a moving spell.

Everyone in the bar watched the strange father and daughter leave in silence, then looked at each other and stopped gathering in front of the three professors' table.

Scott keenly sensed the change in the atmosphere.

He inexplicably understood everyone's feelings.

Just now, when they heard the news of the mysterious man's return, although everyone was panicked, they also lacked some sense of reality. Now, the witch who was hysterical because of her husband's death put the real war and death in front of everyone.

In this depressing atmosphere, Scott took out a few silver Sickles to pay the bill, then turned and left the bar.

Walking under the street lights, his shadow was stretched long.

Rimbaud flew down from the sky and landed on his shoulder.

The witch affected not only others, but also Scott himself.

"Maybe I have always thought too simply." He muttered.

"What?" Rimbaud asked softly.

Scott shook his head and didn't want to say more.

He didn't tell Rimbaud that before this, he only thought about himself and the people he cared about, so he had always been watching the upcoming chaos from the other side of the river. Even though he watched the battle last night through "live broadcast", he felt like he was watching a movie, but his feelings were not real.

Until today, he saw the real sadness and despair, and realized that the things brought by war were much deeper than he imagined.

Scott's mind was a little confused at this time. For the first time, he felt that perhaps being too sensitive was not all good.

He could express the colors of magic through painting, and he could also perceive the changes in other people's magic through perception, which made him more and more sensitive to emotional perception and even strengthened his empathy.

He thought of those who died in the battle last night, and felt a little irritable for some reason.

But Scott's emotional time did not last long. Blowing the warm summer evening breeze, he quickly regained his reason.

Reason told him not to be embarrassed.

Even if he thought about things beyond his ability, it would only add to his troubles.

Unconsciously, he walked to the door of Honeydukes Candy Store.

Perhaps because he was in a bad mood, looking at the colorful candies in the window, he suddenly had an instinctive desire for sweets, so he walked into the store.

A few minutes later, he walked out of the store with a bag full of various candies.

After that, he and Rimbaud returned to the crow territory in the forest through the door key in an empty alley.

Large pieces of milky yellow almond candy, shiny pink coconut ice cream, honey-colored toffee, various chocolates...

In the oak cabin, Scott, who had returned to his original appearance, ate several kinds of candy in one breath, and then began to feel sick.

"I really don't like sweets."

He put down the half-eaten milk chocolate, felt a little nauseous but couldn't spit it out, so he was busy brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth.

Late at night, Scott, lying in bed, finally calmed down completely.

He found the Sailor Astrolabe that had been identified by the Ravenclaw tutor and held it in his hand, and began to try to communicate.

As the magic power was input, Scott suddenly felt his consciousness sink.

Feeling the weightlessness as if falling from a high altitude, this time he did not panic at all.

In just a blink of an eye, he appeared again on the old sailboat parked in the cold black ocean.

Feeling the bone-chilling cold all over his body, this time Scott did not feel his mind stagnant.

And because of his clear consciousness and active thinking, the cold that was about to freeze his limbs slowly faded away.

Scott looked around and began to walk on the broken deck.

Because it was dim all around, he could not see things clearly, thinking that it would be better if the wand was in his hand.

As soon as he thought about it, he felt a familiar grip in his hand, and the familiar feeling of spiritual communication told him that it was undoubtedly his wand.

"Fluorescent flash."

Scott tried to cast the lighting spell, and the tip of the wand also successfully lit up a soft light that was not dazzling.

This feeling was very magical.

Scott didn't know whether he was in a dream or an illusion. Everything around him was so real, but it could be tampered with by his consciousness.

Just as he felt that he shouldn't feel cold because of this false illusion, the cold really left him.

With the light, Scott began to explore the ship carefully, including the deck, cabin, and captain's room.

But Scott still found nothing.

There was no literature or anything iconic on the old sailing ship. It was like a virtual ship modeled in 3D. Apart from its realistic appearance, there was nothing worth investigating.

Was it because of insufficient communication or...

Scott walked back onto the deck and looked up at the sky.

After a long while, he blinked.

This starry night sky is certainly fake.

Scott thought.

But after a long while, he still didn't look away.

"I hope my knowledge of astronomy can come in handy."

He muttered and decided to write down the fixed stars in the sky.

The wizard's astronomy is different from the Muggle's astronomy. It is also a kind of magic. He can judge the location of the old sailing ship through the stars.

But this also requires some very tedious calculations.

Despite his efforts, Scott failed to successfully remember the stars in the sky.

While he was still trying to remember, he suddenly felt that his thinking speed began to slow down rapidly.

Although Scott still "struggled" for a while and tried to remember all the stars, he failed and his thinking was about to stagnate.

So he could only escape from the illusion or dream.

The escape was successful.

Scott opened his eyes again and saw the familiar ceiling of the wooden house.

He rubbed his swollen head with his fingers and looked at the sailor's astrolabe in his hand.

This time the sailor's astrolabe did not change at all.

Because the feeling of dizziness was too strong, Scott did not try to communicate again. He put the sailor's astrolabe with a chain next to his pillow and fell asleep.

The next morning, Scott did not even have time to eat breakfast, so he hurried to the small desk and recorded some of the stars he still remembered.

"It seems that I can only do it slowly."

An hour later, he looked at the incomplete star map in his hand and knew that he had to piece it together through communication again and again.

When he put down the star chart and started to eat breakfast, Rimbaud flew into the cabin from the window with a new issue of the Daily Prophet.

"The newspaper is here!" He put the newspaper on the table.

"Thank you."

Scott, who was still a little dizzy, cheered up and unfolded the newspaper.

"'Memorial service for former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge held today'."

This was the front page headline of the Daily Prophet today.

Scott glanced at the meaningless content and began to read the content of other pages.

"Who can become the new Minister of Magic? "

Scott was quite surprised when he saw this title.

Fudge's memorial service has already occupied the front page headline, so there is no need to "confront" like this on the sub-page, right?

Of course, Scott was just teasing in his heart.

He knew very well that the current situation was tense, and it was urgent for the British magic community to elect a new and suitable Minister of Magic as soon as possible, and it was also the expectation of all British wizards.

It's just that everyone's expectations may not be the same, and different people have different ideas about the word "suitable".

Scott glanced at it and found that this report also contained some meaningless content, just a list of people who might become ministers and a few simple comments.

Scott couldn't help but sigh that it was too easy for reporters to make money.

Fortunately, there was some content that interested him in the next report.

"Azkaban faces rectification, where will the Dementors go?"

This article obviously put forward some decent suggestions on how to manage Azkaban when all the Dementors rebelled.