Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, principal's office on the eighth floor of the castle's main tower.
It was a large and handsome square room, with some curious silverware on a table with spindle legs.
Although it is summer, there is still a dazzling fire in the fireplace in the room.
Near the center of the room, stood an old man with a long flowing silver-white beard - the headmaster of Hogwarts, and the greatest wizard recognized by the wizarding world today, Albus Dumbledore.
In front of him was a huge table with claw-shaped legs. There was a shelf behind the table, and on it was a worn-out pointed wizard's hat.
"Dumbledore, what do you think of this year's lyrics?"
The hat twisted, and a wide slit opened from the edge of the hat, like a mouth, making a sound.
"It's a beautiful song. I think the students will love it."
Dumbledore clapped with great interest, his silver-white beard swaying in time with the beat.
"By the way, besides that, there is another important thing, about Harry Potter's sorting..."
After a pause, Dumbledore raised his index finger and was about to say something when he suddenly stopped his voice and looked behind him.
The fire in the fireplace behind him soared, making a crackling sound, and a slightly reproachful female voice came out.
"Professor Dumbledore, I hope the important thing you mentioned in the owl letter did not refer to discussing the lyrics with the Sorting Hat. You know, sending a semester announcement letter to nearly a thousand students is not an easy task.
"
A tall black-haired witch in emerald green robes leaned out of the fireplace.
Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her lips were pursed with a slightly impatient look, as if she was dealing with something difficult.
Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, Head of Gryffindor House, and Vice-Principal of this wizarding school.
"Of course not. I just think you might need a little help with this year's admission notice. How about some raspberry jam first?"
Dumbledore turned around, smiled gently, and handed Professor McGonagall a small bottle less than two inches high, filled with red jam.
"No thanks."
Professor McGonagall responded coldly, obviously not thinking that this small bottle of raspberry jam could solve her problem.
"There is no doubt that judging from the magic feedback, the more than twenty letters sent to Harry through owls were all intercepted by the Dursleys. However, as long as Harry fails to open the envelope with his own hands, the magic pen will automatically write repeatedly.
Sooner or later, the family will compromise in the face of reality."
Dumbledore blinked his blue eyes flexibly, "In this case, let me handle the matter of notifying Harry. When necessary, Hagrid will also act as a temporary postman."
"Hagrid? Well, it seems you have made your decision. You always have your own reasons."
Mag frowned, made a noncommittal snort, and continued: "If that's all, just write it in the owl letter. Is there anything else that needs to be discussed in person?"
"Yes."
Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed under his half-moon lenses, he picked up a crumpled piece of paper from the table and handed it to Professor McGonagall, and said slowly.
"In fact, apart from Harry, there is one other child in this class who has not received a letter. To be precise, according to Filch's inventory of the owl shed, all the owls that flew to her residence have lost their traces.
."
"Missing owl? You mean..."
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, a little confused.
"I don't know. But according to the magnitude of the magic riot calculated by the Ministry of Magic, the magic power in her body has reached a critical value. If she continues to lack guidance, she is likely to become an Obscurial."
Dumbledore shook his head, replied with a serious expression, and then looked at Professor McGonagall slightly apologetically.
"I'm sorry, I was supposed to go there because of the child's situation. But you know the situation with Harry. So, I might need to trouble you to go and visit him in person."
"We all understand that the influence of that person is still there."
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and shrugged helplessly to express her understanding, "Besides, as the vice-principal, this is also my job. What is that child's name?"
"Elena, Elena Kaslana, this is the name she gave herself, and she currently lives in a Muggle orphanage in the Scottish Highlands."
Dumbledore held his eyes on the bridge of his twisted nose and added, "By the way, pay attention to your communication methods. If I remember correctly, she is half Veela and may be a bit difficult to deal with."
————
In Scotland, the largest inland lake in the British Isles, there is an inconspicuous town located on the shores of Loch Lomond.
There is a simple little church in the south of the town. Just behind the church, it is connected to a small orphanage. The priest and the director of the orphanage are both Spaniards named Benitez.
The orphanage is not big, and most of them are children transferred from other orphanages. Counting Benitez, there are only seven people in total.
There is no doubt that among the many children, Elena Kaslana, who has a pair of starry lake-blue eyes and waist-length silver hair, is a particularly special existence.
Not only because she is the only child with a surname, but more importantly, as early as a few years ago, Elena was responsible for almost all the financial allocation and cooking arrangements for the entire orphanage.
At this time, a group of children were surrounding the kitchen door, looking eagerly at Elena who was preparing breakfast for everyone.
Like most children in the orphanage, ten-year-old Elena is a little thinner than her peers. She is only 1.2 meters tall. She can only reach the kitchen countertop by standing on a small wooden stool.
However, no one would have thought that this was a little girl under eleven years old just by looking at her skillful gestures of shaking pots and shoveling.
From the sizzling frying pan, the tempting aroma of fried eggs spread out, mixed with the burnt aroma of the bread slices that had been toasted and placed aside, making the children surrounding the door unconsciously
Swallowed hard.
The orphanage's funds have always been tight, and they can only smell this smell every Sunday during breakfast.
Next to the frying pan, some kind of poultry seemed to be stewed in a large dark iron pot. The boiling soup had turned milky white, with some gold-colored oil droplets floating on it, and a particularly mellow fragrance wafted out.
Just the smell of it can make people feel warm all over.
Putting the last piece of fried egg into the iron plate, Elena picked up the spoon and tasted the boiling soup on the side, smacking her mouth slightly, it seemed that she needed to cook it for a while longer.
Elena bent down, looked at the fire that had become less bright, frowned, picked up a stack of envelopes made of thick parchment on the table, stuffed it into the stove, and pounded it inside with a pair of tongs.
Let the fire grow strong again.
After doing all this, the girl jumped off the small wooden stool used to rest her feet lightly, turned around and looked around at the little gluttons surrounding the door, her face was stern, and she clapped her hands.
"Okay, now, everyone go back to the table immediately! Otherwise, you won't be able to drink chicken soup today."
The girl put her hands on her hips, trying to puff up her flat chest, trying to make herself look more imposing, and said in a very threatening tone.
"Sister Elena, can't the priest still have breakfast with us today?"
The question was asked by Bran, the youngest child in the orphanage. Perhaps because of his young age, he is extremely clingy and can be regarded as Elena's number one follower in the orphanage.
Elena shook her head, pushed Bran out of the kitchen, and replied angrily.
"I have told you many times that Dean Benitez's typhoid fever has not healed yet and he can easily infect you. However, I estimate that he will be able to fully recover by drinking chicken soup for a day or two."
"So……"
Bran stood on tiptoes, looked across the wooden table to the tumbling iron pot, and swallowed.
"After the director recovers from his illness, will we still be able to drink soup from the fat Scottish round-faced chicken every day?"
"This..."
Elena turned her head and glanced at the burning fire under the iron pot. Among the dancing flames, an envelope made of thick parchment slowly curled up and ignited. A unique shield emblem on the envelope flashed away.
.
Even though it has been almost six years since she traveled to this strange world, as a senior fan of the "Harry Potter" series, she still recognized the coat of arms from the first moment she saw it - consisting of a gold lion on a red background and a blue one.
The bronze eagle on the ground, the black badger on the yellow ground and the silver snake on the green ground form the main body of the coat of arms. In the center of the coat of arms is a capital letter "H" - the school emblem of the famous Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
However, even though she was a fan of the "Harry Potter" series in her previous life, it does not mean that Elena is willing to step into the magical world and accompany the trio of saviors on plot missions.
After finally being reborn, she didn't want to waste her precious time on a battle of wits between a group of middle school students (all of Hogwarts) and a rural terrorist (Voldemort) who was, at best, a country terrorist. The great crisis in the Muggle world was about to begin.
The Internet age is much more exciting than the magical world.
Just as she guessed, the letter from Hogwarts was attached with special magic. Not only would the address change according to her actual living location, but the school should also have magic to judge whether the little wizard actually opened the envelope and read it.
through its contents.
Therefore, she immediately caught the owl and made soup, and burned the letter directly.
I believe that in this case, even if someone from the school came to investigate, they would be furious and cancel her admission qualification, right?
Kneeling down, Elena rubbed Bran's chestnut hair, plucked off a dark brown owl feather that accidentally got on his hair, and threw it into the fire behind her, with tongues of flame licking the feathers.
, making a soft crackling sound.
"Don't worry. Before I opened that envelope, there would be such fat Scottish round-faced chickens every day."
"So...what does a fat Scottish chicken with a round face look like?"
Bran asked curiously.
Elena shook her head, did not answer, stood up, ended the discussion about the Scottish round-faced fat chicken, patted Bran on the head and said with a smile.
"Okay, you will know when you grow up. Now go to the restaurant and sit down. After breakfast, you must do your morning lessons with everyone."
————
(Meng Meng Da You Meng is begging for food, please vote for recommendations, 嘤嘤嘤, there is a chapter with more than 3,000 words!)