This Hogwarts is not normal

Bradley has been Auror Director for almost 20 years.

Like Dumbledore, he has repeatedly rejected the position of chairman of the Magic Congress.

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 Wuzi Party.

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

Bradley Graves carried on the family tradition, graduating from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, becoming an Auror with the best grades in his class.

Before the age of 30, he was already the director of the Auror office.

At the age of 40, he also served as the Minister of Magical Security.

Grandfather Parcival's position during his lifetime, he inherited the next two positions by virtue of his strength.

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

This vampire, who has lived for more than 100 years, is the culprit who made his father seriously injured and retired.

Sam knows the past of his director, which is not a secret in the Magic Congress.

"Director, Victor is half dead, I think you will be able to survive him."

Bradley raised his hand and slapped it down.

"You bastard, hurry up and turn the street back!"

"Oh." Sam pouted, turning back the street that had just been shrunk by the Transfiguration technique.

When he recovered, he lay on the ground as if he had collapsed.

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

"Director—I just drove off a Kraken that drifted into the Atlantic Ocean, I—I need to rest—"

Sam moaned feebly in exchange for 5 precious minutes.

His temper is a bit grumpy, but he is actually quite a good person.

Bradley squatted beside him, "Those who can do more work, look at the British Isles across the ocean.

They are only 11 years old, and they have already received the Order of Merlin. "

Sam curled his lips, "That broken medal still has a ghostly gold content, and it was ruined by their idiot Minister of Magic a long time ago."

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

"I'm from the Atlantic."

"He's only 11 years old!"

"There are six of them."

"He's still Muggle-born!"

The pouting Sam was full of dissatisfaction, but he didn't dare to open his mouth to refute anything.

"I have a hunch he's going to be the next Albus Dumbledore."

Familiar taste, familiar recipe.

Since he became an Auror with the best results in the whole session, he will come up with this trick every three to five times.

"He's only 11 years old, maybe that idiot minister forced him out."

Bradley slapped him again, "He almost became the Wizengamot youth representative in the UK!

You didn't even have a nomination when you went to school, you are not up to date, so just say it when you are envious and jealous! "

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

"Don't underestimate him." Bradley thought for a while, but didn't take the slap.

"You'd better get rid of this lazy character, and don't be caught up by others in a few years."

"cut--"

The slap was finally slapped down.

"5 minutes is up, go back and write a report for me!"

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

"Get out!"

……

……

New York's sewer village is as intricate as London's subway.

There are a lot of homeless people living here, and many of them have been powerful.

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

"I am not wrong, right?"

"No, if you mean his sudden appearance."

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

A wall with a strange pattern painted on it.

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

It is made of Orichalcum and has a row of magical runes engraved on its surface.

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

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

"Victor—" Vader raised his head, revealing a cold face of about 20 years old.

"You seem very unwelcoming to me?"

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

There was no apology on her face, "That's all, it doesn't affect you at all."

Victor went to the dusty wine rack on his own, "I have to save it for Graves' mad dog."

"Just kill him."

He picked out a bottle of red wine, "I didn't even kill old Graves, so why not keep it to pass the time?"

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

She gently squeezed the wine glass that fell in her hand, "About three months later, something will happen here that will cause a sensation in the world of magic."

Victor's slender fingertips scratched the glass of the red wine cork.

"His prophecy?"

"Yes."

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

The bright red liquid dripped from his chin onto the dusty carpet.

There may be blood in it, or it may not.

Vida's fingertips slid across the wine racks in the distance, as if picking out his favorite red wine.

"He saw a boy using an alchemy weapon he had never seen before."

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

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

"The last time he saw a relatively complete picture of the future was the year 1927 when you hadn't joined us yet."

"What did that boy do?"

She flicked the mouth of the wine bottle that was being drawn, and the entire cork flew out, "I don't know, he just asked you to help this boy."

"That's it?" Victor walked in front of 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, "He promised Dumbledore that he would never leave that prison in his life."

"A ridiculous prison!"

Victor ignored the shards of glass on his palms and clenched his fists, "That's where we used to detain opponents!"

"Not now."

He let go of his bloody fist, "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 all been waiting for? "

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

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

"Nicole Flamel?"

"I have to go now."

Victor stood there very calmly until long after she was gone.

"Heh--hahahaha--"

He laughed out loud very suddenly.

Maybe it was 47 years of waiting, and finally a glimmer of hope came.

……

……