The principal's office - on the dazzling array of tables, where all kinds of strange things were originally placed, there is an extra leaf of young shoots.

It was specially chosen by Owen to give to the principal.

He transplanted a pot of golden dandelions from a clearing outside the castle.

Don't ask, it doesn't mean anything else.

It's just—like the fox said: the wheat field has nothing to do with me, and it's frustrating.

You have blonde hair, though.

Think about it, how nice it would be if you tamed me!

I'll love the wind in the wheat field—because it reminds me of you, blonde hair.

It so happened that his grandfather had blonde hair when he was young...

————

To—Gellert.

Dumbledore picked up the gilded quill on the table, his blue eyes clear.

It's like being stuck in a memory. He didn't drop a word for a long time when he picked up the pen.

In his heart, he always thought that he had single-handedly destroyed one demon king and let the other go. And now, just as he had been fifty years ago, he had to devote his energies to dealing with one demon king, and he might let the next one go.

Owen Sanchez.

Won't he be next?

This contemplation continued for a long time, until a phoenix cry pulled him out of his memory.

Then, as if he had made up his mind, Dumbledore's notes were full of ink and warmth, and he touched the letter and wrote down the first sentence to him in 46 years: How are you doing?

...

Outside the window, the sun rises high in the east, dispelling the last chill of the morning.

Until the sun shines.

Suddenly, there was a loud phoenix cry in the sky.

It was Dumbledore's Phoenix.

With a letter in his mouth that should have been sent 46 years ago, Fawkes flew past Hogwarts Castle and the silent Black Lagoon.

Flew in the agreed direction on the plains of Godric's Hollow, where they had been.

"He's sure he knows it all."

In Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Quirrell's gaze gradually panicked, pleading, and worried, and a series of emotional changes made him almost unable to pretend.

In an instant, countless thoughts flashed through his head.

He wanted to use Voldemort's power to become an influential figure in the wizarding world, or to be more self-righteous and learn a few powerful spells from Voldemort, and then report him and become a real savior.

So - Quirinus Quirrell, in the forests of Albania, he voluntarily opened his soul to parasitism.

After all, in the state of Voldemort at that time, how could he possibly deal with an elite wizard who could only parasitize snakes with little intelligence, and even large mammals.

But now, he has made a wrong step, and he has regretted this decision.

Voldemort was so terrifying that he couldn't deal with the most powerful dark wizard of all time.

"Master—"

Quirrell, who was at a loss, was inexplicably excited, waking up Voldemort, who had stolen from the back of his head.

"Quiet." It didn't take Quirrell to wake up, Voldemort had come to his senses since he was in his hands and began to think cranky.

"Yes."

Listening to the voice that suddenly came out of his heart, Quirrell's face instantly returned to his previous submissive appearance.

Of course, if you look closely, you can clearly see a different kind of light in his eyes.

"Professor? What happened to you? Owen had been observing Quirrell's face, and he didn't believe that Voldemort would suddenly jump off the wall and give him a green light.

But, in the spirit of watching a little fun, just watch a little fun, Owen's eyes never left Quirrell's eyes.

Even the slightest change was seen by him.

'Oops! Is it so obvious? Owen almost laughed out loud, Voldemort parasitized on an iron wolf, and Dumbledore thought it was a die-hard Death Eater, which was somewhat black and absurd.

We Professor Quirrell never seemed to realize that the more he behaved, the less Dumbledore would move him, because it would give the illusion of it.

It's as if he is the death squad of a certain black devil, the vanguard, and the most loyal subordinate, of course Old Deng Tou will choose to continue to cast a long line to catch big fish.

After all, Dumbledore would never have dreamed that Voldemort would play with him in the dark.

"It's fine." Quirrell's tone of voice suddenly took on a different flavor.

"It's not common for a young wizard like you to be so good."

Owen reacted almost immediately, and it wasn't Quirrell who was now speaking, but Voldemort who had stolen his incredibly clever brain.

Wow!

First experience with the Dark Lord!

Although he and the Dark Lord are comrades-in-arms, this does not mean that he recognizes his pure-blooded philosophy.

There is really nowhere to go, and in the whole of Britain, except for the Death Eaters, there are only two organizations left, the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic.

First, let's kick away the Order of the Phoenix, which is fully transgender, and then set our sights on the Ministry of Magic.

....

No, no! No one really travels to the wizarding world and goes to work!

So, it's not that Owen chooses the Death Eaters, it's that he has no choice!

"Excellent?" Owen said shyly, "It's okay, a magical genius like me still had one a thousand years ago." ”

“？” Voldemort was a little fiercely beaten by such a shameless speech, and he didn't remember who the other one this kid was targeting?

"O Merlin! Ever since I was a child, my grandfather told me that my talent was only something that Merlin could barely match. Say I'm the reincarnation of Merlin or something. ”

"Oops! How could I be the reincarnation of Merlin! ”

"I don't like men." Owen talked eloquently, like a husky taking off the reins, and he couldn't find the southeast and northwest for a while.

"Huh—huh?" Voldemort looked at the unashamed, eleven-year-old Owen, and set off a wave in his heart, after all, his name can be said to be loud in England, this little thing actually looks down on himself, and directly targets Merlin... Really, I don't know what to say.

For a while, his interest in Owen plummeted by half, and he originally thought he was a malleable talent, but now it seems that he is just an idiot who forgets after learning a few spells.

"Really, I don't lie to you, the love story between Merlin and King Arthur back then was stained, and it was really tearful for those who heard it, and sad for those who listened to it." (Reference: British drama "The Legend of Merlin")

Owen pretended to be sad and looked up at the ceiling at a 45-degree angle, "We have Merlin on our heads, we can't escape fate, we can't love." Everything was predestined. ”

"So life! Why is it bitter like a song? ”

Owen's eyes revealed three points of coldness, three points of ridicule and four points of nonchalance.

A pair of fan-shaped eyes that look through the long history of magic.

This is full of absurd words, and only in the dead of night can you see a word between the lines.

Cruel!

Yes! A large knife slashed at the history of magic, blaming Yamei for not getting off to a good start.