The years of welding at Hogwarts

But the old man didn't seem to care about the hideous appearance of these cockroaches, and there was no panic on his expression.

Instead, he calmly reached into the jar, grabbed one of them, and put it in his mouth.

crunch, crunch...

Mm, it tastes like candy, is crunchy, and contains six times as much sugar as rice.

If a few more of them come, there will probably be one more diabetic patient in the world.

As the old man felt the slight stinging pain of the cockroach's barbed legs jumping in his mouth, and the barbs pricking the inner wall of his mouth, a look of happiness appeared on his face.

But before he could savor the sweet, blissful taste released by the cockroaches in his mouth, a voice suddenly came from outside the door, breaking the pleasantness of this after-meal dessert time.

"Pile of cockroaches."

The happy look on the old man's face suddenly disappeared.

He hurriedly put the snack can on the table into the drawer, then took out a stack of documents from the drawer and placed them on the table.

The old man put the ink bottle in place and picked up the feather pen, looking serious as if he was reviewing documents.

A rumbling sound came from outside the door. It was the sound of the guardian stone beast at the door making way.

The footsteps gradually approached and finally stopped at the door. Then, there was a knock on the door.

"come in."

There was no trace of the flustered look in the old man's calm voice when he was pretending to be busy with official business.

A tall black-haired witch wearing emerald green robes and a pointed wizard hat of the same color walked in from outside.

Her dark hair was tied into a tight bun beneath the wizard's hat.

The witch's lips were tightly pursed together, her brows were slightly furrowed, and her face was serious, as if she had encountered something quite tricky.

"Minerva, what's going on?"

Dumbledore slowly raised his head, and his azure eyes behind the half-moon lenses stared at Minerva McGonagall, the dedicated vice-president and professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He waved his hand, and a gorgeous high-backed chair cushioned with goose down appeared out of thin air behind Professor McGonagall.

"sit down."

As Dumbledore spoke, he casually opened the drawer of his desk and took out the can of snacks that he had hidden less than thirty seconds ago.

"You look distressed?" Dumbledore smiled gently. "Perhaps you should learn to relax yourself. Some sweets may help you?"

After sitting down in the armchair, Professor McGonagall glanced at the thick stack of documents on the table in front of Dumbledore, and her face instantly darkened.

Then, she said coldly, "No, thank you."

Because she found that the document on the top of the stack was exactly the same as the one she saw when she came to the principal's office yesterday morning.

She saw through it at a glance that the jerk old man in front of her was just slacking off.

However, she did not scold Dumbledore for this. After all, the old man was over a hundred years old and had been slacking off in his position as the headmaster for more than a year or two.

Professor McGonagall, who is called the vice-principal but actually performs the duties of the principal, has gotten used to it.

"This student's situation is a little special," the older cat lady said as she placed a piece of parchment in her hand on the table in front of Dumbledore. "You may need to go and pick him up in person."

"How special?"

Dumbledore did not pick up the parchment on the table that recorded the background check results of the new students. He just blinked his deep blue eyes at Professor McGonagall, with curiosity in his eyes.

Welcoming new students who meet the admission requirements is a task that Hogwarts has to do every year.

Generally speaking, this work in previous years was left to the professors to do, and it was rare, or even impossible, for the headmaster of Hogwarts to do it personally.

At least, in the decades that Dumbledore served as the headmaster of Hogwarts, he had never encountered a situation where he had to personally deliver letters to new students, not even once.

Even this year, the legendary savior of the British wizarding world who defeated the Dark Lord, the famous Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, is about to enter school.

Dumbledore simply delegated the task of delivering the admission letters to the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid.

The professors don't even need to go.

"He is an orphan."

Hearing Professor McGonagall's words, Dumbledore's expression changed completely.

No changes were made.

Just an orphan.

The existence of orphans is not a rare thing in the wizarding world, which has a population of only tens of thousands and a fertility rate that is a few tenths of a percentage point lower than that of the Muggle world.

Anyway, Hogwarts always encounters one or two like that every year. Even when there are fewer, they can recruit several more after one or two years. It is not surprising at all.

Let’s not talk about the distant past, let’s just talk about Harry who is going to school this year. He is the kind of orphan described in the novel whose parents are both dead at the beginning, no, the template of the protagonist.

Seeing that Dumbledore didn't care, Professor McGonagall's expression became more serious.

"He grew up in the Wu Orphanage."

When he heard the name of this orphanage, Dumbledore's expression changed for the first time, and the gentle smile on his face suddenly froze.

Why does this freshman's background sound so familiar?

He lowered his head and began to carefully examine the background check for new students on the table.

At the top of the parchment, a name written in emerald green ink was clearly visible.

Noah Shafrin.

"This is the name Mr. Shafrin gave himself."

"When he was six years old, Mr. Shafrin had his first magical riot."

Professor McGonagall's expression became increasingly serious.

"Then, Mr. Shafulin, who discovered that he had a talent for magic, established his rule over the other orphans in just half a month."

Hearing this, Dumbledore frowned slightly, realizing that things were not simple.

Judging from this action, this new student named Noah Shaflin is a carbon copy of that guy back then.

Adjusting the glasses on his twisted nose, Dumbledore picked up the parchment on the table and began to read line by line the series of deeds done by the young wizard before he entered school.

"In the two years since then, Mr. Shafulin seemed to have stayed peacefully in the Wu Orphanage, honing his magical abilities."

"But in reality, he secretly contacted a criminal organization and took some measures to replace the original leader of the organization."

On the parchment, Professor McGonagall specifically wrote in bright red ink next to this record what kind of organization the group called "Hydra" was.

That line of blood-red words caught Dumbledore's eyes.

Crime, darkness, evil...

Basically, apart from the two inhumane businesses of human trafficking and laundry detergent trading, there is no illegal or criminal thing that Hydra does not do.

Moreover, before Noah Shafrin joined Hydra, the organization was just an unknown and second-rate street gang of thugs.

But when Shafulin joined it, it became one of the most powerful forces in the London underworld in just half a year.

Professor McGonagall continued to introduce Dumbledore:

"It wasn't until Mr. Shafulin was eight years old that the Wu Orphanage was closed. From then on, he officially stepped out from behind the scenes of the Hydra organization and stepped into the front stage."

The record on the parchment ends here.

Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore let go of his beloved snack jar and stood up from behind his desk.

"I understand, Minerva. Leave this matter to me."

He reached out toward a tall, gilded perch behind the door. "Fawkes."

However, before the large bird with flaming red feathers could swoop down from its perch, Professor McGonagall interrupted Dumbledore.

Old cat lady, cat shakes her head.

"No, Albus, you don't understand."

Dumbledore, whose hand was still in the air, looked puzzled: "?"

The Phoenix Fawkes's long golden tail, as gorgeous as a peacock's tail, dragged a long, gorgeous trail in the air and landed on the hand stretched out by the bewildered Dumbledore.

"Not long after Mr. Shafrin became the behind-the-scenes leader of Hydra and led it to grow rapidly to its current size, the evil organization changed its name."

"They now call themselves..."

Professor McGonagall drew out her wand, and the tip of the wand, which was glowing faintly, moved through the air, leaving a trail that formed a line of beautiful, glittering cursive characters:

SHIELD

In other words, Aegis.

Literally speaking, it can also be said to be collecting protection fees.

"Moreover, the illegal activities they had previously carried out have gradually been curbed. In addition to the casinos and bars still continuing to operate, the thing they do most now is..."

At this point, Professor McGonagall had a strange expression on her face, and her tone was full of lack of confidence in her final investigation results.

"Cure the sick and save the dying."

Dumbledore: "???"

Chapter 3 You didn't even think of calling me sir

An elegant manor covering a large area on the outskirts of London.

The lavishly decorated study room sparkled under the intricate crystal chandelier on the ceiling. The sunlight shone through the huge glass windows, casting a large, dazzling golden spot on the ground.

Although the sun was shining brightly, the atmosphere in the room was quite cold and stiff.

In front of the glass window, a thick classical black

Behind the wooden table, there sat a silent figure.

It was a young boy.

Short black hair, blue eyes, and delicate facial features make up his nearly perfect facial contour. He is so handsome that he looks like a walking aphrodisiac.

Opposite Noah Shaflin, a middle-aged man with a slightly balding head bent his waist to 90 degrees, his tone full of pleading.

"Whatever you want, Lord Shafrin, just ask me to fulfill my request.

The bald man is the owner of a company called Granning.

He originally had a happy family of three, but now this happiness has been shattered.

The tragedy that happens to men is a very old story.

Half a year ago, his beloved daughter found a so-called "boyfriend".

One night, the two went out for a ride together, and along with them was a bright light bulb, a sturdy boy.

They lured her into drinking whiskey, and what happened next was not at all unexpected.

The girl fought back hard and saved her chastity, but was also severely beaten.

Apart from the psychological trauma, her nose was broken and her jaw was shattered. There was absolutely no possibility of her recovery using any technological means.

Although the two boys who committed the murder were tried, they were only sentenced to three years in prison, which was suspended, and they were released on the day of the trial.

Noah Shaflin leaned lazily on the back of his chair, caressing the kitten in his arms absentmindedly.

There was a hint of disdain in his eyes, but he didn't show it. He just whispered, "What is your plea?"

Hearing Noah's words, the bald man became a little excited. He straightened up suddenly, walked around the wooden table in front of him, and came to Noah's side.

He bent down and put his mouth close to Noah's ear.

Noah was like a priest in the confessional listening to the confessions of his followers, his eyes fixed on the distance, emotionless and indifferent.

After a whisper, the man respectfully stepped aside and waited nervously for Noah's reply, like a prisoner awaiting the outcome of the trial.

After a brief silence of a few seconds, Noah raised his head. The sunlight projected through the glass window behind him cast half a shadow on his face as he sat sideways.

"I can't do what you ask."

The man's body trembled slightly, and he raised his voice, "I can give you anything you want."

Noah glanced at the man in front of him and then looked away, losing interest.

He was still caressing the kitten in his arms nonchalantly. "Last year, when I proposed to you to buy 40% of your company's shares, you didn't have this attitude."

"You kicked away the olive branch I extended to you, fearing that you would get into trouble."