Harry Potter’s Raven’s Claw

Late at night on July 15, 1991, London.

In an alley, a blond boy was confronting a big black dog with withered coat.

The boy held a metal short stick in his right hand, which should have been removed from some kind of machinery, and the fracture at the top of the short stick was still covered with burrs.

The young man moved his right foot back, bowed slightly in a fighting style, and behind him were several huge trash cans. However, the target of this man-to-dog confrontation is obviously this pile of garbage.

In the darkness not far from the alley, two figures were observing this scene.

One of the old men with a long white beard whispered, "Minerva, do you think he can scare the dog away?"

"We can't watch that kid fight that dog, he'll get hurt! Professor!" The tall slender woman on the side seemed very dissatisfied, pursing her lips tightly, the wrinkles on her face shaking with the opening and closing of his mouth, speaking He also took out his wand and made a gesture to step forward.

The white-bearded old man reached out and stopped her, "Wait."

Meanwhile, in the alley.

The big black dog seemed to be unable to hold back the hunger of the attached middle school, and its big mouth full of fangs and saliva rushed towards the young man.

On the other side, the young man stared at the black shadow that rushed over, and his slightly bowed body suddenly turned to the right to avoid the big black dog's bite. At the same time, the short stick was swung out. The initial speed of the short stick was not fast, but it suddenly accelerated in the middle, turning into an afterimage and smashing towards the big black dog.

The big black dog fell to the ground whimpering, then quickly got up again, with its tail tightly tucked between its legs, turned around and limped out of the alley, breaking its right front leg with the stick just now.

"It seems that our little Mike won." The white-bearded old man narrowed his eyes and smiled.

In the alley, Mike didn't seem to intend to just let the black dog that the big black dog tried to grab food from him.

I saw that Mike quickly approached the big black dog with a few steps, and held a short stick in his right hand and smashed it towards the waist of the big black dog.

The big black dog's right front leg was injured, and its movement speed was greatly reduced. With its back to Mike, at this time, it was only limping forward.

puff! sound. The big black dog fell to the ground again.

Mike, on the other hand, had already sat on the body of the big black dog, and smashed the head of the big black dog with a short stick in his hand.

I don't know how long it took, Mike breathed heavily and stopped, and the big black dog under him had long since died. The blood on the dog's head was already blurred, and there was a small pool of blood under it that was slowly expanding.

After calming his breath, Mike stood up with a short stick in one hand and dragged the big black dog towards the darkness outside the alley, without even looking at the trash can they had just fought over.

Not far away, the two watching the battle looked at each other silently. What happened in just a few short minutes was beyond their expectations.

These two are Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Head of Hogwarts Gryffindor House, and Professor of Transfiguration.

Originally, they thought that Mike, the 11-year-old boy, should scare away or repel a vicious dog that was as tall as his waist, but what they never expected was that Mike actually chose. Kill this big black dog and, depending on the situation, prepare to make it his own dinner.

Professor McGonagall turned her head to look at Dumbledore stiffly. "She is an orphan who has been wandering for 5 years after all. If she was kind, he might have died long ago. He is still a child, Dumbledore." Professor McGonagall said with a tone of voice. The persuasion meant that she knew Dumbledore too well, and Mike's actions would undoubtedly arouse Dumbledore's dissatisfaction.

"Don't worry, Minerva. I can see that the child's nature is not bad, let alone our teachers?" Dumbledore did not turn around, and continued to look at the darkness where Mike disappeared.

And our Mike, apparently unaware that two wizards had just witnessed what he did,

At this time, he was walking on the open road humming a ditty.

Mike was out looking for food this time, and his original target was the trash cans on his site. These European and American countries may have excess resources, and residents have the habit of wasting food. Thanks to this bad habit, Mike always gains something every day.

And this time Mike's luck was obviously good. A big black dog came out by himself to serve as Mike's dinner. With a better choice, Mike will naturally not go to those smelly trash cans again. Even if I am a homeless orphan, I am not qualified to dislike being dirty, but it is better to be clean. It is too sloppy and easy to get sick.

Yes, Mike is an orphan. In theory he should stay in the orphanage, but Mike knows that not every orphanage is as good as they say they are. In fact, many orphanages are engaged in human trafficking in disguise.

Their clients are all kinds of strange, even couples with serious criminal records and no marriage licenses can successfully adopt children. It stands to reason that most of them are not eligible for adoption, especially in the UK where adoption conditions are extremely harsh.

But as the saying goes, money can make a ghost run the mill.

As long as you pay, those cumbersome and strict restrictions will open a window for you, and the size of the window depends on how much you pay.

Mike had never been in one of these orphanages, but he knew all about it. Everything in this world requires money, and if you want to enter a good orphanage, you can't do it without money.

For an old street orphan like Mike, no matter how long you have been wandering, even if you wander for only one day, the price will plummet.

Now only the free welfare orphanage built by the government is willing to take in Mike, and this is only after he was caught by the "social welfare department" but actually the "city appearance and municipal department" and could only enter after going through the formal procedures.

But these orphanages, well, what to say.

In the words of those city appearance and municipal officials, "You little gangsters on the streets are only fit to rot in an orphanage like this."

The treatment of the orphans in these orphanages Mike couldn't bear to recall, and the most disappointing thing was that no one would be willing to adopt the children in these orphanages, and even if there were, they would definitely be unwilling. Everyone knows what kind of children are kept in these orphanages.

So in order to avoid being caught by those "hyenas" and thrown into the orphanage, Mike had to leave the city and build a shack in a suburban wood. And our Mike also named the shack he built by himself called the Junk House, which is very apt. This house is indeed built out of garbage.

At this time, our Mike was fully fed and lying on a worn mattress in the garbage house, his eyes fixed on the string of wind chimes on the roof.

After staring at it for 20 minutes, the string of wind chimes suddenly swayed in the absence of wind, making a crisp jingle sound.

Looking at the string of wind chimes, Mike's little face burst into a bright smile. This was the first time in half a year that he took the initiative to activate his ability to make the wind chimes move.

Mike feels like a psychic, and whenever he gets emotional, paranormal phenomena appear around him. Sometimes the glass in his hand suddenly cracked, and sometimes there was a sudden fire around him.

The severity of these paranormal phenomena depends entirely on the intensity of his emotions and is completely uncontrollable. This is also the reason why Mike moved to the grove himself. If this supernatural phenomenon is frequently exposed in front of people, he will definitely be checked by people, and what awaits him may be sliced ​​and studied.

Since Mike discovered that this ability of his own is related to his own mood swings, he has started to learn to control his emotions. Because he found that if he mastered his emotions, he could control his ability to a certain extent, and let his ability be displayed as he wanted.

Obviously, the efforts of the past six months are not without results.

Just when he was fighting the big black dog, he successfully activated that ability. At that time, all he thought about was knocking the dead dog to death, so his short stick seemed to have some magic attached to it, speed and strength. become great.

"In this way, the next plan can be carried out."

The boy's eyes sparkled in the dark, and soon there was a slight snoring sound in the cabin. Tonight's two consecutive active activations were too tiring for this thin boy.