Chapter 1 The Missing Owl

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, principal's office on the eighth floor of the main tower of the castle.

It was a large and handsome square room, with some curious silverware upon a table with spindle legs.

Although it was summer, there was 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 also the greatest wizard recognized by the wizarding world today, Albus Dumbledore.

Before him stood a large, claw-legged table, with a shelf behind it holding an old, worn, pointed wizard's hat.

"Dumbledore, what do you think of this year's lyrics?"

The hat twisted, and a wide slit opened from the brim, like a mouth, making a sound.

"It's a beautiful song. I think the students will love it."

Dumbledore clapped with interest, his silver-white beard swaying in time.

"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 surged, making a crisp sound, and a slightly reproachful female voice came out.

"Professor Dumbledore, I hope that the important thing you mentioned in the owl letter did not refer to discussing the lyrics with the Sorting Hat. You know, sending school opening letters to nearly a thousand students is not an easy task. "

A tall dark-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 thought 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 replied 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. and shipping, 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 another 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 should have gone there because of the child's situation. But you know the situation on Harry's side. So, I might need to trouble you to pay a visit in person."

"We all understand that the influence of that person is still there."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and shrugged helplessly to express 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. 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."

————

Scotland, the largest inland lake in the British Isles, sits an inconspicuous town on the shores of Loch Lomond.

There is a simple little church in the south of the town. Just behind the church, it is also 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 arrangements for the financial distribution and cooking of 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 less than eleven years old, just by looking at her skillful handling of pots and shovels.

From the sizzling frying pan, the tempting aroma of fried eggs spread out, mixed with the burnt aroma of the slices of bread 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 during breakfast every Sunday.

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 floated. Just the scent alone 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, as if 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 and stuffed it into the stove, and mashed it with tongs. Let the fire grow strong again.

After doing all this, the girl lightly jumped off the small wooden stool used to rest her feet, 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 was extremely clingy and could be regarded as Elena's number one follower in the orphanage.

Elena shook her head and replied angrily while pushing Bran out of the kitchen.

"I have told you many times that Dean Benitez's typhoid fever has not healed yet, and it is easy to infect you. However, I estimate that drinking chicken soup for a day or two will make a complete recovery."

"So……"

Bran stood on tiptoes, looked across the wooden table to the tumbling iron pot, and swallowed.

"After the dean is cured, can we still 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 coat of arms. 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 rural terrorist. The great war 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 - a steady stream of meat was much more important to the children in the orphanage than any magic.

In any case, in her eyes, the people in novels and movies are just strangers, far less important than the people in the orphanage who have lived together for several years. Moreover, she knew nothing about her own magical talent. Compared to going to school in a strange and dangerous Hogwarts, she could take better care of the children around her by virtue of her understanding of historical trends.

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, the flames licking the feathers. , making a soft crackling sound.

"Don't worry. Before I opened that envelope, there would be this kind of fat Scottish round-faced chicken 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 sit down in the restaurant. After breakfast, you must do your morning lessons with everyone."

————

(The cute fat chicken with a round face is begging for food. Please vote for recommendations. Hey, hey, there’s a chapter of more than 3,000 words!)

New book release~

I have always been a serious fan of HP fandom, and I couldn't help but write my own book.

This is actually a very logical and serious story. The food is only part of it. It can be seen more as a travelogue... Seriously.

By the way, after watching the operation of eating the messenger owl in the first chapter for so long, I guess I am the only one who is so cruel. . Hope it doesn't scare away HP fans.