Warhammer wizard at Hogwarts

Odin, who was fixed on the top of the bloody banner, had been burned by the increasingly fierce magical fire into a skeleton with only a little bit of flesh and blood remaining.

But as long as its spirit - or soul, is still imprisoned in the turbid blood banner, it will never die completely and can only keep making painful whines.

"Odin, shut up and don't ruin my business."

Harry raised his hand and put a "lock tongue" on the magic amplifier in his hand. When the environment finally calmed down, he shook the letter in his hand towards Ohm and said, "Hagrid said, If we can find time from work, he wants all four of us to go to his place for dinner. It's fine on Hermione and I's end, what do you and Fiorina say?"

Inviting someone to dinner but only sending a letter to one of the invitees?

Raising his eyebrows, Ohm immediately saw Hagrid's always laughing face wrapped in a beard.

Okay, this behavior is very Hagrid indeed.

"I've just finished my work here. The intensity of the remaining work depends on whether those bastard governors can do their best to promote the orders I issued."

Ohm took out the battle accelerant allocated for this month from the halo behind his head, took out one and held it in his mouth, lit it with the flame on the bloody flag that Harry brought over, raised his head and blew out a puff of smoke: "As for F. F, she has nothing to be busy with recently, I can just send her a message later."

"That means everyone can go!"

The smile on Harry's face suddenly became much brighter. He put away the letter Hagrid sent him and said to Ohm: "Then let's meet under the Whomping Willow on the edge of the Forbidden Forest at four o'clock in the afternoon, British time."

"Time seems a bit tight." Ohm looked up and looked at the position of the sun in the sky, "Hermione hasn't gotten off work yet, can she catch up?"

"Does that need to be said?" Harry said confidently, "She is Hermione!"

----

North America, Canada region, downtown Vancouver.

In the spacious corridor of the court, a teacher was taking 37 fifth-grade primary school students to visit the workplace of the Imperial District Justice Department, in order to cultivate the basic understanding of the operating rules of the Ministry of Justice in these children who were not from families with loyal heirs.

The 11-year-old Fragil was described by her teacher as being "drowsy" because of her dull and lengthy words, but she didn't want her teacher to give her a big "D" on her performance during the field trip just because she fell asleep.

Even though mom and dad won't say anything, the annoying teacher will definitely call them all to school and torture them in the office like prisoners, constantly asking them to pay attention to their education methods.

But shouldn’t education be the teacher’s business?

Fragil didn't quite understand.

She only knew that her parents were very tired from work. They worked as front-line workers in the assembly department of the Imperial Military Factory, responsible for manufacturing bolt bullets for Lord Astartes.

Praying, incense, oiling, and assembly, these steps all require parents to do it themselves. Only in this way can we ensure that those big bullets can be fired smoothly.

Since His Majesty the Emperor conquered Canada, my father's salary has increased three times, and my mother can also work in a factory, and they get off work earlier than before. There are gradually more new furniture in the house, and I also have one. There are more books to read.

But Fragil still didn't want her parents to be taught a lesson by a teacher, especially an irresponsible teacher who only followed the instructions.

Emperor, although I don't know if you need it, I hope you can protect my parents from being injured at work. I am willing to give you my favorite "The Tales of Beedle the Bard".

Praying silently in his heart, little Fragil kept looking around, his big brown eyes kept looking at the hurried law enforcement officers around him, looking at the mortal bolters on their waists, feeling in his heart I couldn't help but feel a little proud.

The bullets inside were probably made by my own parents!

Suddenly, Fragil saw several men wrapped in long black trench coats walking quickly through the revolving door of the Legal Department. Without exception, they were all carrying flat black briefcases.

The short and thin man at the head walked straight towards the student team where Fragil was. His light gray eyes were like those of a hungry wolf in winter, full of desperate ferocity.

Unspeakable fear captured Fragil's heart like a bush. She backed away at a loss and soon bumped into her classmates.

The teacher stared at the strange man, opened her arms like a hen, firmly protected the students behind her chubby body, and said loudly: "Sir, what can I do for you?!"

The surrounding law enforcement officers immediately realized that the intruder was evil. They immediately raised their bolt guns and shouted in unison: "Stop and identify yourself! Put your hands where I can see them, or I will shoot." Shot!"

Before he finished speaking, the five men in black trench coats who came in together with the man suddenly shook off the briefcase in their hands, revealing the item inside - a replica Imperial mortal bolter!

The deafening gunshots instantly drowned out all sounds, and the law enforcement officers immediately started a fierce gun battle with the black windbreakers. Tables, chairs, and documents were shattered and cracked by the flying bombs, and fell down one after another, as if it was snowing indoors.

For fear of accidentally injuring innocent people present, the law enforcement officers did not activate the detonation function of the explosive bombs. The bullets fired ricocheted off the steel armor under the black trench coat. Only a few bullets with tricky angles could effectively injure them. These gangsters.

And the men in black trench coats suddenly found that the imitation bolt guns in their hands didn't listen to them at all, and the trajectory of the bullets fired was ridiculously skewed, and the full magazine bottomed out after just a few shots. Small problems like this happen frequently.

The leading man punched the teacher on the chin, knocking the 60-year-old woman to the ground.He shook open the briefcase in his hand, revealing eight brown plastic bombs and the extremely sophisticated timed detonation device.

"Stop for me!"

He held the bomb high, and at the same time pulled out a small pistol from his waist and pointed it at the children who were crying and collapsed on the ground. He yelled at the law enforcement officer: "Are you deaf?! I said, stop! Otherwise I will Kill all these brats!"

"Ceasefire! Ceasefire! The other side has hostages!"

Upon discovering that the students were under threat, the law enforcement officers stopped pulling the triggers. Their stern eyes wanted to tear the man holding the bomb into pieces, but they had to obey the other party's order and lowered the muzzle of the bolter to ground.

"That's good~"

The man holding the bomb laughed triumphantly: "I, Rip Hansel, want to let the world know today that the so-called empire is just a bloated empty frame! I will definitely die today, but this bad life is enough Opening a chapter of chaos for the world! As for you—"

He glanced at the law enforcement officers present with the muzzle of his pistol, gently pressed the start button of the timed detonation device, and said with a ferocious smile in the beating scarlet numbers: "Let us spend the last 20 seconds of our lives together. !”