This Hogwarts is not normal

Bradley has been the Head Auror for almost twenty years.

Like Dumbledore, he refused the position of President of the Magical Congress many times.

The reason is also very simple, because his grandfather, Percival Graves, was killed by the first generation Dark Lord, Gellert Grindelwald, who was called the Holy Lord by the saints.

Externally, this group of people has always been called the Wu Cui Party.

His father spent his life cleaning up these remnants until he was seriously injured and had to retire honorably.

Bradley Graves inherited the family tradition and became an Auror after graduating from Invermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with the best grades in his class.

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Before he was thirty, he was already the director of the Auror Office.

At the age of forty, he also served as Minister of Magical Security.

Grandpa Percival inherited two of the positions he held during his lifetime.

And Victor D. Blood is the existence he hates most besides Grindelwald.

This vampire, who has lived for more than a hundred years, is the culprit who caused his father to be seriously injured and retired.

Sam knew about his director's past, which was not a hidden secret in the Magic Congress.

"Director, Victor is already half dead, I think you can survive him."

Bradley raised his hand and slapped him down.

"You bastard, why don't you hurry up and change the streets back!"

"Oh." Sam pouted, and gradually transformed the streets that had just been shrunk by the transformation spell back into shape.

When he recovered, he lay on the ground as if exhausted.

"Get up quickly, we have to go back." Bradley kicked over.

"Director - I just chased away a Kraken that drifted into the Atlantic Ocean. I - I need to rest -"

Sam's feeble groaning bought him five precious minutes.

He has a bad temper, but he is actually quite a good person.

Bradley half-crouched next to him, "Those who are able work hard, look at the British Isles across the ocean.

He is only eleven years old and has already received the Order of Merlin."

Sam curled his lips, "That broken medal still has a lot of value. It was ruined by their idiot Minister of Magic a long time ago."

"But they did protect the Philosopher's Stone." Bradley said with hatred: "If you had half as much effort as that Wayne, you would have caught Victor just now!"

"I came from the Atlantic Ocean."

"I'm only eleven years old!"

"There are six of them."

"He's still a Muggle-born!"

Sam, who was pouting, looked dissatisfied, but he didn't dare to say anything to refute.

"I have a feeling he will be the next Albus Dumbledore."

Familiar taste, familiar recipe.

Since he became an Auror with the best results in the entire class, he would use this trick every three to five times.

"He is only eleven years old. Maybe that idiot minister forced him to come to him."

Bradley slapped him again, "I almost became the British youth representative of the Wizengamot!

You're a loser who didn't even get a nomination when you were in school. If you're jealous, just say so!"

"I didn't." Sam held his head in frustration, "I don't believe there can be another Dumbledore in that place."

"Don't underestimate me." Bradley thought for a moment and did not slap him.

"You'd better get rid of this careless personality, and don't let others catch you in a few years."

"cut--"

The slap finally came down.

"Five minutes are up, hurry back and write a report for me!"

Sam pursed his lips, "Obviously there's still half a minute."

"Get out of here!"

…

…

New York's sewer village is so intricate that it rivals London's subway.

There are a lot of homeless people living here, and many of them have experienced great success.

Victor, who suddenly appeared here, ignored the surprised looks of these people and walked straight towards one of the passages.

"I am not wrong, right?"

"No, if you mean his sudden appearance."

Two brave tramps followed, but at the end of the passage was a solid thick wall.

A wall with a strange picture painted on it.

Victor walked through the wall and down the stairs and came to a metal door.

It was made of orichalcum, with a row of magical runes engraved on its surface.

After opening the door, he saw a lady in a formal dress sitting on a dust-free sofa.

"Vida Rozier, what kind of wind brings you from France to New York?"

"Victor——" Vader raised his head, revealing a cold face of about twenty years old.

"You look unwelcome to me?"

"Because of you, I wasted a quarter of my blood to activate the transfer ritual."

There was no apology on her face, "It's just to this extent, it has no impact on you at all."

Victor walked to the dusty wine rack and said, "I have to save it to deal with Graves's mad dog."

"Just kill him."

He chose a bottle of red wine, "I didn't even kill old Graves, why don't you keep it to pass the time?"

"Then you will be very busy later." Vida stretched his hand towards the goblet hanging upside down on the wine rack.

She gently squeezed the wine glass that fell in her hand, "About three months from now, something will happen here that will shock the world of magic."

The glass at the cork of the red wine bottle was scratched by Victor's slender fingertips.

"His prophecy?"

"That's right."

He didn't care about the sharp cuts and drank half a bottle of red wine as if he was thirsty.

Bright red wine dripped down his chin and onto the dusty carpet.

It may be mixed with blood, or it may not.

Vida's fingertips ran across the wine rack in the distance, as if he was choosing his favorite red wine.

"He saw a boy wielding an alchemical weapon he had never seen before."

"A boy?" Victor licked the wine on his lips, "A boy who can be predicted by the greatest prophet of this century?"

"Isn't it interesting?" Vida's fingertips pointed to a very old bottle of red wine, with a cork made of cork oak that was full of cracks.

"The last time he saw a relatively complete picture of the future was in 1927, before you joined us."

"What did that boy do?"

She flicked the mouth of the red wine bottle she had brought, and the entire cork flew out, "I don't know, he just asked you to help this boy."

"That's it?" Victor walked up to her, "I thought he was going to come out of Nurmengard."

"He can't get out."

"There are no guards there!"

He crushed the bottle and became slightly agitated.

"47 years! We have been waiting for him for 47 years!"

Vader took a sip of red wine and said, "He promised Dumbledore that he would never leave that prison in his life."

"Ridiculous prison!"

Ignoring the glass shards stuck in his palms, Victor clenched his fists hard, "That's where we used to imprison opponents!"

"Not anymore."

He released his fist that was bleeding continuously, "Since that boy can be predicted, it means that he will be very important in the future.

Tell me, can he grow into the man we've been waiting for?"

"I'm just a messenger." Vida put down his wine glass with an unnatural expression.

"The last thing I can say is that the weapon in his hand is made of mithril."

"Nicholas Flamel?"

"I have to go now."

Victor stood there very calmly until long after she left.

"Hahahahahahahahahahaha"

He laughed loudly and suddenly.

Maybe after 47 years of waiting, there is finally a glimmer of hope.

…

…