Miss Planeswalker, are you free for romance?

He used a rough cloth rope to tie several circles around his waist. His abdominal muscles contracted and moved with his breathing. He heard the sound of dead branches being crushed, raised his head, and looked over at him.

"Oh, you're a little early."

The man muttered and threw down the hammer, saying in a muffled voice: "You know how to nail a door... Never mind, how old are you?" Neville looked up following his annoyed gaze, and on a huge tree that four or five people could not hug together: a small tree house had begun to take shape.

There is no door.

"The witch's style is unpredictable... I think I should carve some patterns or something... What do you think, kid?" He brushed his hands, stood up from the fallen tree trunk, pointed at his masterpiece, and said proudly: "Is it a style that girls would like?"

Neville Longbottom: ...

This shabby house with green all over it has no style at all.

"I knew you would think it was good too." He patted Neville's shoulder hard, almost making the child kneel on the ground: "Did Ansuna explain it to you clearly?"

Neville shook his head in confusion.

"When you see good metal, you want to make it into a precious sword, that's what it means. She left a legacy to our source world, and she insisted on dragging me into it..." The man's voice was loud and powerful: "I don't care. Let things that should perish perish, that's normal."

The fat boy nodded as if he understood, which made him laugh: "My name is Immorton, kid. Ansuna's way is not suitable for you, or rather, Wu Ji's methods are not suitable for most men. I suggest you stop. You are timid and indecisive, not ruthless enough, and even if you learn it, you will only learn it half-heartedly."

“But many people…”

"Many people have good results? That's because they haven't gotten started yet, kid." Imhotep tightened the belt around his waist, walked to the huge tree that supported the tree house, and patted the trunk with his big hands. "It's the same before you get started. Do you think it's good? It's the same with boxing. Don't you ignorant little wizards just want to exercise your bodies and knock down a few people in a fight? Any martial arts that are popular on the market can do it. Eastern, Western, modern, ancient, it's all fine after a few years of learning."

"I think Ansuna is just idle..." He looked up at the base of the tree house: "...There's nothing fun in our source world. She's been so bored lately that she actually taught you Wu Ji techniques."

"Witch-sama too..." His voice became smaller and smaller as he said this.

Neville Longbottom didn't understand.

Imhotep turned around, leaning on the tree trunk with one hand and looking at him. After a long while, he nodded slightly: "Just barely."

The fat boy was even more confused.

"Something that will benefit you..." Imhotep suddenly spoke, holding his strong arms in front of the boy, opening and closing his palms, clenching them into fists - along his forearms, terrifying muscles suddenly bulged on his deep skin. "Put down your wand, the thing that can save your life and kill the enemy after you lose those little magic tricks."

"Interested, Neville Longbottom?"

"Since the witch is in a good mood, I am willing to teach you a few tricks."

Neville Longbottom came in a daze and left in a daze.

The woods returned to silence.

"He's not even close."

Imhotep spoke.

"Compared to the Witch Lady, of course."

A slender leg stepped out from behind the tree, twisting her ankle and leaning against the trunk in a graceful manner. The woman was wearing scanty clothing, her flat dark belly exposed to the air.

Ansuna yawned and said, "Leave me your skills. If you never come back, it will be considered as fulfilling the favor that the Sun God gave you."

Imhotep was speechless.

"His qualifications..."

"That depends on who you're competing with, Imhotep." Ansuna stared at the 'wooden board' in front of her man's toes and felt something was wrong: "... Wait a minute, you haven't finished the witch's house yet?"

Imhotep: ...

Bad, almost...

"I think it's still a long way off," Ansuna kicked the wooden board a few times in disgust, "What is this? A roof?"

It’s…the door.

Dear Anna Sunam.

"--Door?!"

"Where's the handle?"

"Where are the hinges?"

"There has to be a lock, right?"

Imhotep: ...

I haven't learned that yet.

The videos Hera provided were too sloppy. In the previous step, the workers were still making steel, but in the next step, the workers had already started assembling. How could I learn without the most important step?

"Don't you have the blueprints?"

Imhotep looked at his wife, sneered twice, fiddled with the broken leaves at his feet, pulled out a dirty piece of paper and handed it to her.

“…Is this a chimney?”

"Tree house." Imhotep laughed. "Look, I'm not the only one who can't understand the blueprints."

Ansuna also has a headache when talking about the tree house.

I don't know what's wrong with the witch, she always wants to run into the woods. Let's settle down. None of her servants have the attribute of "craftsman" - don't mention Nagini. In Ansuna's opinion, she is not even worthy of the name of a maid.

A real personal maid is definitely not like this.

She only managed to be 'close to the body'...

Post, post, post day and night.

Ugh.

A qualified craftsman... they really need one. At least one who can handle the countless strange ideas that pop up in the ever-changing witch's little head every day.

Thinking of this, she looked at her man with some sympathy.

Where has Imhotep done this?

Thousands of years ago, he even had to be served when eating.

"I'll tell Hera to put the 'craftsman' type servant on the to-do list."

Imhotep: "What should we do now?"

Ansuna: "Come on, I love you."

Imhotep: ...Damn it.

Chapter 160 New Professor

Not only was Mr. Longbottom confused, but McGonagall and the other students were also confused.

Today, Dumbledore returned.

A short, fat middle-aged woman also came back with him.

It is said that he is an important person from the Ministry of Magic.

Mori Yuesa was called in to talk for half an hour, and then, at dinner, he announced the arrangements.

"Good evening, children."

The old headmaster sat in a high-backed golden chair, wearing a dark purple robe with silver stars on it. Harry saw the weariness on his face.

"I have an announcement to make," said Dumbledore. "Regarding changes in the teaching staff, a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has arrived at Hogwarts."

The kids knew what was underneath.

A chaotic noise.

To be honest, they didn't like what Mori Yuesha taught them at first. It was tiring and boring, and they were sweating all over in the hot summer. They had to deal with their sweaty clothes and take a shower after class - of course some people didn't take a shower.

But half a month later, the voices of complaints almost disappeared.

The children felt the benefits.

Later, Ansuna replaced Mori Yuesha and began to teach them the so-called "self-defense skills" - this was even better. Except for some extremely timid and stubborn ones, almost everyone learned a few tricks.

Not to mention fighting and killing. At least, at the very least, it's a good way to defend yourself, right?

They hated to say goodbye to Professor Mori Yuesa and Teacher Ansuna, whom they had just become acquainted with.

The old principal was still talking.

"…Of course, resigning as a substitute teacher does not mean the end of her journey at Hogwarts - Miss Mori Yuesha and her servants will stay in the school until she finds a new job (and has enough fun). I think this is good news, right?"

Dumbledore winked down below. "I'm sure you'll join me in wishing the new professor good luck - children, let us welcome: Professor Dolores Umbridge!"

Sparse applause.

"As usual, I have to repeat myself, even though I am tired of it - students are not allowed to..."

"Cough cough."

Suddenly, a sharp cough interrupted Dumbledore's speech.

"Thank you, thank you for your warm welcome, Mr. Principal."

In the teacher's seat, the woman in pink robes and hats, all pink, spoke slowly. Her interruption made everyone very embarrassed, but she was quite comfortable.

She had short curly brown hair, her nostrils flared subconsciously when she spoke, her face drooped, her brows protruded, and she looked like a toad.

Dumbledore was only momentarily surprised at the woman's sudden desire to speak.

He made a 'please' gesture and shut his mouth.

Professor McGonagall glared at her.

"Thank you, kids, for your applause."

Her lovely smile seemed fake and cold, and her voice was as coquettish as a little girl, with a breathy sound from time to time. "It's so good to be back at Hogwarts. It's so nice to see your happy little faces looking at me!"

Happy little face...

Hermione couldn't understand, was she coaxing a four or five-year-old child?

"I'm so eager to get to know you! We're going to be good friends, right?"

Students began to exchange glances with one another - especially the mean boys and girls of Gryffindor.

good friend?

How about being friends with kids?

She cleared her throat and crossed her hands slowly. She seemed to know the following passage by heart.

"The Ministry of Magic has always believed that educating young wizards is extremely important. If some of your innate precious talents are not cultivated and trained under careful and meticulous guidance, they may be fruitless - um... nothing?"

"The ancient skills unique to the magical world must be passed down from generation to generation, otherwise they will easily disappear. The precious treasure trove of magical knowledge accumulated by our ancestors must be protected, supplemented and improved by those who are fortunate enough to engage in the "noble" profession of education."

From here on, Ron was completely confused. He lowered his head and struggled with the chicken legs in each hand.

Professor Umbridge paused for a moment, as if to give everyone time to digest the information. She nodded to the other teachers present, but no one paid any attention to her.

"The successive headmasters of Hogwarts have all made innovations when shouldering the heavy responsibility of managing this historic school. This is necessary and necessary. Because without progress, there will be stagnation and decline. However, progress for the sake of progress should never be encouraged - our traditions have been tempered and do not need clumsy revisions. To achieve a balance between the old and the new, between constancy and change, between tradition and innovation..."

Ah.

So annoying.

Harry rested his chin on his hand, aimlessly letting his already somewhat wandering gaze run wild. He glanced at Hermione who seemed to be deep in thought, passed by Ron who was eating non-stop, and his eyes drifted to the Slytherin table.

He and Draconian looked at each other.

Miss White Peacock also looked bored. She hid a palm-sized mirror in her palm and looked left and right to observe her makeup for the day. Then, she closed it with a snap, said something silently, and rolled her eyes at her.

'Your sister is finished.'

Seeing that Harry didn't respond, Draconi said, "She doesn't want to run away in disgrace."

…So, you're asking if she'll leave.

Harry smiled.

Draconi: '...Psycho.'

Harry's attention gradually faded, and with the endless and boring speech on the stage, his mind quietly dissipated into an elusive fog, circling around his brain.

Death Eaters, Dark Lords, and William, a man who uses strange spells.