Harry Potter Morning Light

"In 1789, Luigi Giovanni of the University of Bologna suspended a frog, connected an iron rod to the frog's muscles, and connected its nerves to a piece of copper, so that the frog would The twitching, which Giovanni believes is the 'bioelectricity' of the frog."

"Oh." After hearing Edgeworth's words, Georgiana couldn't help but think of the bloody scene, and poor Neville Longbottom, who dissected a whole bucket of horned toads, which looked exactly like him. His pet Raffle is pretty much the same.

"Mr. Alessandro Volta of the University of Pavia became interested in this phenomenon. He invented a device called a 'pile'. Oh, I remember that in 1801 the First Consul invited He came to the French Academy to publish his research results, did you listen to his report?"

"No, I haven't," said Georgiana.

"Why not?" Edgeworth asked curiously.

"I'm a woman and I wasn't invited to sit at the Institut de France until this year."

"This is ridiculous. Co-education is common in Italy, and there is a female professor of Greek at the University of Bologna." Edgeworth said in an injustice.

"Don't neglect other guests, ma'am." Lacre Taylor reminded her with a smile in her ear.

"Sorry, let's talk next time." Georgiana smiled awkwardly at Edgeworth.

"Let's talk next time." Edgeworth waved amiably at Georgiana, and they went about their own business.

"I don't think the First Consul will accept co-educational schools, ma'am," said Lacre Taylor. "He only allows nuns to educate rich ladies."

Georgiana kept smiling. She was not surprised that Bonaparte would do such a thing.

"I don't know if you have heard that the First Consul is planning to close the French Institute of Political Science." Lacre Taylor asked.

Georgiana didn't answer, if it weren't for the fact that the college was about to be closed, how could she have been invited to attend.

"The First Consulate seems to believe that the purpose of training teachers is to guide politics, morality and public opinion. If the people grow up and don't know whether to support republic or autocracy, whether to believe in religion or not, then the country will never become a country. The cornerstone of the school is not stable and will fluctuate from time to time. Teachers are just tools and should not be as obsessed with doctrine and reasoning as the Political Department.”

"You want to go to the Collège de France?" asked Georgiana.

Lacre Taylor smiled.

"You want me to introduce you?" Georgiana asked again.

Just as Lacre Taylor was about to speak, the piano sounded in the tent, playing Bach.

"Have you ever heard of a pianist named Beethoven?" Laclay Taylor said, looking at Metternich.

"Oh, why haven't I heard of it?" Georgiana smirked.

"He wrote a sonata for Rudolf Kreutzer, the violin teacher at the Paris Conservatoire. This piece is completely contrary to his style. Have you ever heard of his dedication to Duke Karl von Lisnowski? "Pathetic."

"I think I've heard it," Georgiana recalled.

"To be a musician, you must first be favored by your patrons. The Duke also likes Bach, but the pathos sounds like a sad girl, with the quiet and solemn style of Haydn and Mozart. He wrote to Klee Cai's sonata is loud and irregular, like a man full of enthusiasm, now you understand what I just said means that the style is completely opposite."

Georgiana half understood.

"Find someone to play it for you one day, and you'll know it after hearing it." Lacre Taylor said, "protecting" Georgiana continued to patrol the scene.

"Go get the violin player just now." Georgiana said suddenly with her eyes closed.

Leyla, who was reading, stopped reading and stood up.

Not long after she heard the footsteps of two people, she thought it was Leyla and the violinist.

"Can you play a Kreutzer sonata?" Georgiana asked.

No one answered her.

She opened her eyes. It wasn't Leyla and the violinist who came.

"We must go, Georgiana," laughed Miss Georgiana Gordon, the future Duchess of Bedford.

"Not two more days?" asked Georgiana.

"No, don't delay your trip," said Miss Gordon. "And what's there to do with this place?"

Georgiana looked at the roses all over the house, even if they were used to decorate it, it was still a bit shabby.

"Why don't you move?" asked Miss Gordon.

"What?"

"You have to go too."

"Why……"

"Napoleon has accepted the terms, and you will sail away with us," said Miss Gordon. "Come on, or do you need help?"

Georgiana froze.

"It's incredible, isn't it?" Miss Gordon sneered. "Even Caesar's just like the rest of us."

Still unable to move, Miss Gordon's nurse held her up.

Miss Gordon came up and looked her up and down.

"Why don't you have someone paint you?"

"Why would I do that?"

Miss Gordon looked at her indifferently.

"I have my own painter." Georgiana replied.

"who is it?"

"An Italian." Georgiana deliberately misled her.

"Canova?" said Miss Gordon after a moment's thought.

Georgiana did not answer, but regained her strength, straightened herself up, and went to the next door, followed by Miss Gordon, who did not consider herself an outsider at all.

"Oh, I see." She looked at the door between the two rooms and smiled. "It's called 'sleeping apart.'"

"Don't tell anyone else." Georgiana said blankly.

"Did you know that he didn't sleep with Josephine at Malmaison?" asked Mademoiselle Gordon.

"I know," Georgiana said quietly, raising her wand.

As she danced lightly, her shoes and clothes automatically ran into the box, and Miss Gordon's eyes widened as she saw everything in front of her.

"I don't need help," said Georgiana to Miss Gordon.

"You used magic on him?" asked Miss Gordon, enduring surprise.

"No." Georgiana said calmly, "Politicians will be protected by members of the Ministry of Magic. They used to be kings, and now they are still adapting."

"I don't believe it," said Miss Gordon indignantly.

"What don't you believe?"

"How could he..." Miss Gordon broke off in mid-sentence.

"I also find it incredible." Georgiana sneered.

And it's still that kind of absurd and uninhibited dream. Napoleon Bonaparte is no longer the emperor for life. How is this possible?

"What strikes you as incredible?" someone behind her said.

She turned her head and found that the door between the two rooms was open, and Napoleon was standing in the doorway wearing an olive green marshal uniform.

"When did you come?" She couldn't help asking.

"Shortly after you waved the baton in your hand." He looked at the wand in her hand and said "I have to explain to the others that your hobby is being an orchestra conductor, so you carry it with you."

"You could call it a drum stick," said Georgiana, looking at the wand in her hand.

"There are two drum sticks, and you only have one in your hand." He said arrogantly, then turned and went back to the next door, "Wait for me for ten minutes, we will go to the pier together."

Georgiana watched his back disappear.

Legend has it that Grindelwald cast a spell after his speech in Lachaise Cemetery, which formed a circle of blue flames, with Grindelwald in the center like a conductor, waving the Elder Wand.

Who is he directing? An orchestra of ghosts, or an unheard celestial symphony?

Some are the performers on the stage, and some are the audience off the stage.

Many times people don't understand what is the use of the conductor of the band. Obviously everyone looks at the score, and only occasionally looks at the conductor. Everyone can play according to the score, but he stands in the most conspicuous center.

Some people say that the conductor is the soul of a band.

She began to understand what kind of "lovers" Grindelwald and Dumbledore were.