The Legend of Harry Potter Schoolmaster

London, a city with a history of more than 2,000 years, is the most prosperous city in the British Isles. The river of the Thames is long, and the bell of Big Ben is still the same. Only here, he can fully feel the glory of the empire on which the sun never sets!

However, in the Newham district of East London, it presents a completely different scene... This is the area with the most concentrated immigrants in London, and it is also one of the poorest areas in the UK, commonly known as the "ghetto".

According to Conan Doyle, the most dangerous place in London in the fog is undoubtedly here; the famous "Jack the Ripper" used to be here.

Dockworkers, females, blacks... Almost all the people at the bottom of London's society live here; of course, the former Soviet refugees may now be added.

After the disintegration of the giant power in the East a year ago, countless "free" refugees rushed to the West. In London, in Paris, in Amsterdam, in the slums of every big Western European city, many unfamiliar Eastern European faces can be found.

...

When an unfamiliar face appeared in Newham District, several malicious black people quickly gathered around.

However, the black people took a look at the sturdy muscles and fierce face of the target, and felt a little uncomfortable, so they dispersed.

This 1.9-meter tall, dark-skinned burly man who looked fierce and savage, was carrying a bottle of wine... He just glanced at the black people and hurried towards his destination Go... As Conan Doyle said, this land is indeed full of sin, and he doesn't want to fall down here.

Ten minutes later, he arrived at his destination: a low-rise apartment.

The whole apartment has the style of nineteenth-century buildings, the plaster on the walls has peeled off, showing an unsightly gray; a few pillars look precarious, and the apartment may collapse at any time.

The stranger stopped and knocked gently on the door.

"Come in!" A weak and decadent voice came from inside the room.

Pushing open the greasy wooden door, the space inside is unbelievably narrow... An old sofa has taken up a small half of the entire apartment, and the rest are piled with various wine bottles.

Although the intruders didn't know much about the wine category, it could still be seen that these were cheap and inferior wines.

"Who are you?" On the sofa lay a gray-haired, decadent-looking middle-aged man with a gray docker's coat on his body.

The intruder could not help frowning, and then handed over the bottle of wine in his hand.

"Vodka!" The middle-aged man who had just declined like an old dog regained his energy instantly.

He quickly took the bottle of vodka, opened the mouth with his teeth, and poured it down his throat like mineral water.

...

"Sergei Ivanovich Pavlov?" the tall intruder asked softly.

The middle-aged man who drank half a bottle of vodka raised his head, his eyes sharpened.

"Born in Kyiv, Ukraine in 1955..."

"Since 1976, he has served in the State Security Council of the Soviet Union..."

"Joined the Afghan War in 1979..."

"Having been awarded the Order of the Red Banner in 1985..."

The burly man's voice was calm, as if he was reciting an ordinary resume.

"Who are you... from Scotland Yard, or from MI6?" Pavlov, who was lying on the sofa, growled; he was now like a polar bear that could attack at any time, his body exuding danger .

"Don't get me wrong!" The burly man smiled. "I'm just here...my name is Varian Wrynn!"

It's not like an English name, Pavlov thought to himself.

His hostility also diminished a bit.

"Your Excellency Wrynn, what are you doing?" Pavlov's English is not standard, and if you listen carefully, you can find many grammatical errors.

An envelope was pushed in front of him, and when he opened it suspiciously, the whole person was shocked.

The envelope contained £50 notes, almost fifty.

Pavlov's hands trembled slightly, he was very short of money, very short of money.

"I can't do illegal things..." But he still had some sense: "Scotland Yard has been eyeing me, they want to throw me in Edinburgh prison... I don't have the same privileges as those black people, I have a wife and daughter to take care of."

"There won't be anything illegal, I'm a good law-abiding citizen!" Wrynn said sternly: "I just want to know something... Do you know Mr. Robert Wilson from Southampton?"

"Mr. Wilson helped me and my wife and daughter smuggled into the UK a year ago, right in the port of Southampton!"

"Mr. Wilson told me that you were a very good KGB agent?"

"When I was training in Kazan, my performance in each subject was always the first in the same class."

"When you were in Afghanistan, you shot and killed six Afghan militants trying to break into the barracks on a dark night without any lights... and received the Order of the Red Banner for that!"

"Yes, my hearing is very good, I can locate it through my ears, and I killed six terrorists in this way!" Pavlov smiled bitterly: "It's a pity that the medal was replaced by me when I was in Moscow. Two loaves of brown bread."

"Then this gun, can you see if it can be used?" As he said, the intruder threw a Desert Eagle Mark I pistol to Pavlov: "The recoil is very strong, but you'd better try a single pistol. Use your hands to see!"

Before Pavlov could answer, the apartment door was suddenly pushed open.

An Eastern European woman barged in.

She was wearing a top with a top and a short skirt that was almost waist-length, with only a padded jacket on the outside... Bright red lipstick was on her lips, and her face was covered with foundation, which couldn't hide the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

It seems that she should have been a very beautiful hairy girl when she was young, but unfortunately, she is only in her thirties, and her face has an old look that does not belong to her age.

"Sergey...sorry...I didn't know you had guests..." she stammered.

Then, she ducked into the back room of the apartment with her head down.

"She...Sarah...my wife..." Pavlov stammered, his head completely lowered.

"Look at the gun first!" The intruder deliberately changed the subject.

...

"No problem." Pavlov replied: "The Desert Eagle Mark I semi-automatic pistol developed by Israel in 1985 has great recoil, but it shouldn't be a problem with one-handed operation with my strength... If you don't believe me I can find a range to try."

"No need, I believe you!" The burly man nodded.

"Then what do you need me to do for you?" the former Soviet Union veteran asked softly, "Do you want to be your bodyguard?"

"No..." The other party shook his head: "I just need a little bit of your hair!"

"hair?"

"That's right..." The other party took out an envelope again: "It's more than 3,000 pounds in total. I want to buy your hair, just a little bit!"