Hogwarts: I can load entries infinitely!

Scotland.

Hogwarts.

The headmaster's office.

This is a circular space.

It is decorated with various antiques and magical items.

There are some strange portraits hanging on the walls.

The characters in the picture will move in the frame.

Just like any portrait in Hogwarts.

Except that they occasionally give suggestions or comments.

In the center of the room stands a huge, beautifully carved oak desk.

There are many strange gadgets and silver instruments scattered on the desk.

These instruments will emit a soft humming sound.

There is blue smoke floating above.

Dumbledore is writing something here.

"I strongly oppose it! Letting such an ominous person like Mesphilos enter the campus is absolutely a very wrong decision!"

The person in a portrait said loudly and seriously.

This person is wearing a black robe.

He has thick black eyebrows.

Almost connected into a line.

This made his anger at this time seem even more ferocious.

On his frame was written "Phineas Nigellus Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1891-1926)".

"I never thought that one day I would agree with what Black said, but yes, Albus, I think you should still consider it carefully."

This is a kind lady.

With long silver curls.

The text on her portrait is more than most portraits.

"Dalis Dewent, St. Mungo's Healer (1722-1741), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1741-1768)"

Dumbledore raised his head slightly.

Most of the portraits were awake at this time.

This is a situation that only occurs when the school's survival is involved.

"Everyone, I understand your concerns, but I don't think we can go against the prophecy. Sybil's words have been proven correct twice."

"Of course, before letting him come, I will make an unbreakable oath with him to ensure that he will not harm any teachers or students in any school."

Dumbledore paused here.

"Besides, we do need his help in the face of the Priory of Tindalos."

The portraits above whispered again.

"I still reserve my opinion."

Principal Black closed his eyes with a sullen face.

As if he fell asleep.

"Albus, you are the principal, and all decisions must be made by you. Of course, I still hold an objection. Asking a wizard who may be as old as the four founders... to be a professor is very dangerous."

Dalis expressed her attitude seriously.

She also closed her eyes and fell asleep.

All other principals basically had the same attitude.

But it still did not stop Dumbledore from finishing the letter.

...

Dear Cam,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been 50 years since we parted under the pyramids of Egypt, but I often think of that unforgettable meeting. I still recall the time we spent together discussing the Sphinx's Transfiguration and the boundary between life and death. I am deeply impressed by your wisdom and insights, and I believe that your understanding and mastery of magic are unmatched.

Recently, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has faced some difficulties, especially in our Defense Against the Dark Arts course. Due to personal reasons, the current professor is about to step down, which has put us in a difficult situation. However, I thought of you, Cam. I believe that you are the best person for this position. Your knowledge and experience will not only help students better understand the nature of the Dark Arts, but also teach them how to effectively resist it.

I sincerely invite you to join Hogwarts as the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

I know that you have many important matters in the United States, but please be assured that I and other teachers in the school will fully support you to ensure that you can fully utilize your talents.

Of course, there are some restrictions, as you know, as an American coming to Hogwarts requires some special procedures.

I am very sorry that this letter has not been written to you until now. We would be grateful if you could reply as soon as possible. It is already a week and a half into the term, but we still need a teacher of your caliber to fill the vacancy.

Looking forward to your reply, Cam. Thank you again for considering this request, and I hope we can continue to keep in touch regardless of the outcome.

Best wishes,

Albus Dumbledore

...

Dumbledore himself put the letter away.

Stands up.

Walks to a rolling fire.

The flames burn brightly.

His face is blurred.He silently threw the letter into the fire.

He watched the letter gradually being engulfed by the flames.

Until it disappeared.

Only then did he whisper softly.

"1317 Eldridge Road, Arkham, Massachusetts, USA"

The fire flashed.

The room returned to silence.

——

Quirrell carefully held the students' test papers.

He walked up the stairs slowly with dull steps.

Entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's private office.

Waited for Marcus to come in with the teaching aids.

The door closed gently again.

There was a click that seemed to be closed forever.

Quirrell breathed a sigh of relief.

He slowly put his wand back into his waist.

He picked up the one on top of all the test papers.

He sat in his chair.

He seemed eager to start appreciating this test paper again.

Even though he had just read it countless times.

"Oh my god, Marcus, can you imagine? This is something a first-grade student could write!"

Quillo couldn't put it down and repeatedly looked at the test paper.

His fingers rubbed back and forth on the test paper.

It was like stroking a precious antique.

There was even a hint of madness in his eyes.

Marcus stood aside.

As if he didn't hear it.

He never looked back.

A flash of scarlet flashed in his eyes.

He just fiddled with those cold teaching aids coldly.

Quiillo didn't care.

Or rather.

He was completely immersed in the test paper.

The more he looked at it.

The more restless he felt in his heart.

The more impulse Quiillo had in his heart.

He wanted to be a good teacher!

"Alas, now I think that the way of taking the master's lesson plan directly before was really not good."

He began to reflect on his previous lazy way.

After all, he was going to stay here for a year.

The lesson plans that the master gave him were all from nearly forty years ago.

They are indeed a bit outdated.

How about revising the content yourself?

Thinking of this.

Quirrell slammed the parchment on the table.

As if to break the stagnant air.

"Marcus, help me get my lesson plan. I found a mistake and need to change it."

Quirrell reached out and picked up a feather pen.

Then took out a blank parchment.

Tested whether there was ink.

Saw the complete ink mark.

Quirrell nodded.

But then he frowned and looked up.

Why is Marcus so disobedient today?

He dragged his feet when I gave him an order.

However, when Quirrell raised his head.

At this time.

Marcus slowly turned around.

However, there was no expression on his face.

There was a gloomy light in his eyes.

Quirrell seemed to be aware of it.

His pupils condensed slightly.

At that moment.

He saw a green light flash before his eyes.

There seemed to be a suffocating chill in the air.

The quill fell.

There was a slight thumping sound.

Like a low death knell.

Quirrell fell stiffly on the chair.

His eyes widened.

There was eternal fear and confusion in his eyes.

It was as if his soul was taken away in an instant.

Dissipated in this gloomy room.

Marcus approached expressionlessly.

He took out a tube of reagent that flashed with a strange silver light.

He poured it coldly into Quirrell's open mouth.

The silver liquid flowed slowly.

It seeped into his throat.

It was as if cold death was swimming in his veins.

Then he turned around, opened the door and left silently.