Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 8th floor of the main castle tower, Headmaster's office.

It was a large, beautiful square room, with some odd silverware on a table with spindle-shaped legs.

Although it was summer, the fireplace in the room was still lit by a dazzling fire.

Near the center of the room stood an old man with a long, flowing silver-white beard, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and now considered the greatest wizard of our time, Albus Dumbledore.

In front of him was a large, claw-shaped table with a shelf behind it with a worn, worn, pointed wizard's hat.

"Dumbledore, what do you think of this year's lyrics?"

The hat twisted, a wide slit split from the brim of the hat, like a mouth, and made a sound.

"It's a beautiful singing voice, and I think the students will definitely enjoy it. ”

Dumbledore applauded with interest, his silver-white beard swaying to the beat.

"By the way, in addition to this, there is another important thing, about the sorting of Harry Potter......"

After a pause, Dumbledore raised his index finger and was about to say something, when he suddenly stopped his voice and looked behind him.

The fireplace behind him exploded with a crackling sound, and a slightly reproachful woman's voice was heard.

"Professor Dumbledore, I hope that the important thing you mentioned in the owl's letter did not mean discussing the lyrics with the Sorting Hat. You know, sending school start notification letters to nearly 1,000 students is not an easy job. ”

A tall black-haired witch in an emerald green robe leaned out of the fireplace.

Her jet-black hair was tied into a tight bun, and her lips were pursed with a slightly impatient expression, as if she had been dealing with something tricky before.

Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, Head of Gryffindor House, and Deputy Headmaster of the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Of course not. I just think you might need a little help with this year's new student announcement. Like a little raspberry jam first?"

Dumbledore turned, smiled gently, and handed Professor McGonagall a small bottle less than two inches tall filled with red jam.

"No thanks. ”

Professor McGonagall replied coldly, apparently not believing that the small bottle of raspberry jam would solve her problems.

"There is no doubt that, judging by the magic feedback, the more than twenty letters sent to Harry through the owl were all stopped by the Dursleys. However, as long as Harry fails to open the envelope himself, the magic pen will automatically repeat the writing and delivery, and sooner or later the family will compromise in the face of reality. ”

Dumbledore blinked his blue eyes flexibly, "In that case, then I'll take care of the matter of informing Harry." When necessary, Hagrid also acts as a temporary postman. ”

"Hagrid, well, it looks like you've decided, you've always had your point. ”

McGonagall frowned, let out a noncommittal nasal voice, and continued, "If that's all there is to it, and it's written in the owl's letter, is there anything else that needs to be discussed in person?"

"Yes. ”

Deng Liduo's blue eyes flashed under the half-moon-shaped lenses, and he picked up a crumpled note from the table with a little seriousness and handed it to Professor McGonagall, and said slowly.

"In fact, this year's freshmen, besides Harry, there was another child who didn't receive the letter either. To be precise, according to Filch's inventory of the owl shed, all the owls that flew to her residence were missing. ”

"Missing owl? What do you mean ......"

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, a little confused.

"I don't know. But according to the magnitude of the magic riot counted by the Ministry of Magic, the magic power in her body has reached a critical value, and if she continues to lack guidance, she is likely to become an obscurity. ”

Dumbledore shook his head and replied with a serious expression, then looked at Professor McGonagall slightly apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I was supposed to go for this kid's situation. But Harry's situation, you know. So, you may need to visit it yourself. ”

"We all know that the influence of that person is still there. ”

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders helplessly in understanding, "Besides, as Vice Chancellor, this is also my job. What's that kid's name?"

"Elena, Elena Kaslana, that's the name she gave herself, and she lives in a Muggle orphanage in the Scottish Highlands. ”

Dumbledore cupped his eyes on the bridge of his nose and added, "By the way, pay attention to the way you communicate, if I'm not mistaken, she's half of the Baby's blood, and it can be a little tricky." ”

————

Scotland, the largest inland lake in the British Isles, Loch Lomond sits on the shores of a humble town.

To the south of the town is a modest chapel, and just behind the church is a small orphanage. Both the priest and the director of the orphanage were Spaniards named Benítez.

The orphanage is not large, most of them are children transferred from other orphanages, and there are only seven people in total, including Benitez.

There is no doubt that among the many children, Elena Kaslana, who has a pair of lake-blue eyes that are as bright as stars and long silver hair that is waist-high, is a special existence.

Not only because she is the only child with a surname, but more importantly, as early as a few years ago, the financial distribution and cooking of the entire orphanage were almost always handled by Elena.

At this time, a group of children were gathered around the kitchen door, looking at Elena who was preparing breakfast for everyone.

Like most children in the orphanage, 10-year-old Elena is a little thinner than her peers, just 1.2 meters tall, and can only reach the kitchen counter by standing on a small wooden stool.

However, if you only look at her skillful spatula posture, no one would have thought that this would be a little girl who is less than eleven years old.

In the sizzling frying pan, the enticing aroma of fried eggs spreads through the slices of bread that have been baked in advance, and the children gathered around the door unconsciously swallow a mouthful of saliva.

The orphanage's funds have always been tight, and they can only smell it every Sunday at breakfast.

Next to the frying pan, a large black iron pot seemed to be stewing some kind of bird, the tumbling soup had been boiled milky white, and there were some golden oil beads floating on it, and a particularly mellow fragrance wafted away, just asking about the aroma, people could feel warm all over.

Putting the last omelette on an iron plate, Elena picked up the spoon and tasted the tumbling soup, smacking her mouth slightly, as if it needed to boil for a while.

Elena bent down to look at the less bright fire, frowned, picked up a stack of thick parchment envelopes on the table, stuffed them into the stove, and pounded them with tongs to get the flames alive again.

When she had done all this, the girl lightly jumped off the small wooden stool that was used to cushion her feet, turned around and looked around at the little glutches gathered around the door, and clapped her hands with a small face.

"Alright, now, everybody, go back to the table at once! ”

The girl crossed her hands on her hips and tried to straighten her flat chest, trying to make herself look a little more imposing, and her tone was extremely threatening.

"Sister Elena, can't Father Priest have breakfast with us today?"

The question was asked by Bran, the youngest child in the orphanage, who may be extraordinarily clingy because of his young age, and can be regarded as Elena's number one heel in the orphanage.

Elena shook her head and replied angrily as she shoved Bran out of the kitchen.

"I've said it many times, Dean Benitez's typhoid fever is not yet cured, and it is easy to infect you. However, I estimate that after another day or two of chicken soup, you should be able to recover completely. ”

"So ......"

Bran stood on tiptoe, looked beyond the wooden table to the tumbling iron pot, and swallowed.

"When the dean recovers, will we still be able to drink the soup of the Scottish round-faced fat chicken every day?"

"This ......"

Elena turned her head to look at the fire burning beneath the iron pot, and in the tongue of fire, an envelope made of thick parchment slowly curled up and ignited, and the chic shield coat of arms on the envelope disappeared in a flash.

Even though it had been almost six years since she traveled to this strange world, as a long-time Harry Potter book fan, she still recognized the coat of arms from the first sight - the main body of the coat of arms is composed of a golden lion on a red background, a bronze eagle on a blue background, a black badger on a yellow background, and a silver snake on a green background, and at the center of the coat of arms is a capital letter "H" - the famous school crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

However, even if she was a fan of the Harry Potter series in her previous life, it does not mean that Elena is willing to step into the world of magic to accompany the savior trio through the story mission.

She didn't want to waste her precious time battling wits with a group of schoolchildren (all of Hogwarts) and a country terrorist (Voldemort) at best, because the era of the Big Internet that was about to begin in the Muggle world was much more exciting than the wizarding world.

As she had guessed, the letters from Hogwarts had a special spell attached to them, and not only did the address change depending on where she actually lived, but the school should also have magic to determine if the young wizard had actually opened the envelope and read the contents.

Therefore, she grabbed the owl and made soup at the first time, and burned the letter directly by the way.

I believe that in this way, even if someone from the school comes to investigate, she will be disqualified from admission in anger, right?

Squatting down, Elena rubbed Bran's chestnut hair, plucked a black-brown owl feather from his hair, and threw it into the fire behind him, licking the feather with a crackling sound.

"Don't worry. Before I opened that envelope, this Scottish round-faced fat chicken would have it every day. ”

"So...... What does a Scottish round-faced fat chicken look like?"

Bran asked curiously.

Elena shook her head, didn't answer, stood up, ended the discussion about the Scottish round-faced fat chicken, patted Bran on the head and said with a smile.

"Well, you'll know when you grow up. Now let's go to the restaurant and sit down, and after breakfast, we will have a morning class with everyone. ”

————

(Meng Meng Da Youmeng wants to eat, ask for recommendation votes, hum, more than 3,000 words in a chapter!)