My Little Pony: Another World Adventure

The difference between gods and demons depends on the situation of the viewer.

--wedge

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall."

"Albus, since we have come all the way to Berlin, I would prefer that you call me 'Minerva'."

Under the dim street lights, the gray-fur tabby cat turned into a woman in a green robe. She had a serious and weathered face, a straight figure, and her blonde hair had been refined by the years into a light color, tied into a tight bun on top of her head. She wore square-framed glasses on her high nose, and two sharp glances shot out from behind the lenses.

It’s clear at a glance that if you don’t do the homework she assigns, there will be no good consequences.

In front of Minerva McGonagall, the old man in the purple gold star robe smiled.

He was undoubtedly very old, with a long white beard that could be tucked into his belt. His wrinkled cheeks revealed a bit of childish mischief, and he always had a amiable smile on his lips. His long nose was crooked and looked like it had been broken at least twice.

It was the headmaster of Hogwarts, the inventor of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, the recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, of the Ministry of Magic, the President of the International Confederation of Wizards, the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot, the greatest white wizard of our time whose name was as long as his title - Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

He raised his hand in an invitation and walked forward along the street of Brandenburg Gate with Professor McGonagall, letting the warm summer night breeze blow his beard and hair. It was already early in the morning, and apart from the chirping of insects, there was no one on the street.

"I don't understand, Albus." Professor McGonagall hesitated. "Recruiting a German student, and he is a half-giant...Except for Hagrid, I don't think this is a happy decision."

"You're saying this isn't necessary?"

"At least I can't see it..."

Dumbledore turned to look at McGonagall, his blue eyes shining sharply behind his half-moon lenses. He whispered, "Minerva, have you forgotten that not long after Harry Potter entered school, a first-year Gryffindor student tried to draw the sword of Gryffindor during the Sorting Ceremony?"

"That student comes from a pure-blood family." McGonagall argued, "Maybe he heard this legend from his parents."

"Just one week into last year, a first-year Ravenclaw student broke into the Room of Requirement in search of the Ravenclaw diadem. Was this also a rumor you heard from your parents?"

"Ravenclaw's ghost, Lady Helena's true identity is——"

"On Christmas Day," Dumbledore said forcefully, "a Slytherin first-year student found the Mirror of Erised, which I had placed in an abandoned classroom, before Harry did. Although he answered my questions perfectly, he was obsessed with getting the Philosopher's Stone."

Professor McGonagall covered her mouth in surprise: "Merlin's beard, Albus, how can you use Legilimency on students?"

"Students? I doubt it."

Dumbledore stopped in front of the statue of the goddess with four bronze horses at the Brandenburg Gate, looked up at the bronze statue of the goddess with wings on her back holding a cross and eagle emblem, and said, "Just a few months ago, a first-year Hufflepuff student got through the obstacles we set up on the fourth floor of the castle before Harry did, and defeated Quirrell. More precisely, he defeated Voldemort."

Upon hearing the name, Professor McGonagall shuddered and almost lost her composure.

Dumbledore looked at her quietly and asked, "Do you know what magic that Hufflepuff used?"

Professor McGonagall's teeth were still chattering. Facing Dumbledore's gaze, she lowered her head slightly and said in a vague tone: "The Fiery Curse..."

"Then tell me, Minerva," Dumbledore said, suddenly looking like a teacher asking a question to his favorite student. "A Muggle-born first-year boy managed to cast one of the most dangerous spells in the wizarding world with ease. Does that make sense?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head slowly and slightly. "It is indeed unusual, but what does this have to do with the half-giant we are going to recruit?"

"Apart from the four representative students I just mentioned, there were too many geniuses and eccentrics who entered Hogwarts last year. Some loved pistols, some delved into the dark arts, some tried to resell magical creature materials..."

Dumbledore stared at the goddess's face, a hint of gloom flashed across his amiable smile. "Compared to Voldemort, whose fate is already determined, these unrestricted geniuses make me more worried. If they care about the common people, they can indeed benefit one side. But what if they want to become the next Dark Lord? Just thinking about their powerful magic power makes me sleepless at night and extremely anxious."

Professor McGonagall stood side by side with Dumbledore. She looked up at the old man's worried face. "So..."

"So I need a supervisor to restrain them before they go astray. The student we are visiting today is a half-giant, and he is naturally resistant to magic. Also because he is a half-giant, there is no need to worry about him mastering advanced magic. Also because he is a half-giant, Hagrid's natural affinity with him will make him spontaneously protect Hogwarts, a place where he can live in the sun."

Dumbledore pulled out a slender, gnarled, pale wand from his purple gold star robes and held it high for the bronze goddess to examine. The goddess's eyes lingered on the wand for a moment, then she moved her bronze neck and nodded slightly to Dumbledore.

The next moment, the four bronze horses pulling the chariot came to life, their hooves stamped hard on the base of the sculpture, and the stone slabs under the wheels moved with a harsh friction sound, revealing a staircase leading underground.

Professor McGonagall said in amazement: "I have heard that German wizards built a large number of hiding places in Berlin during World War II to escape the pursuit of dark wizards serving the Third Reich. I didn't expect that there would be a bunker built under such a conspicuous landmark building."

"Until the end of World War II, no dark wizard had discovered this hiding place. The Soviet wizards also turned a blind eye to this place when they attacked Berlin. A total of more than 500 German wizards survived the war with the help of this bunker. To borrow an old Chinese saying, this is 'to survive after one's death'."

Dumbledore said, "That's enough history for now. Follow me."

He led Professor McGonagall down the narrow stairs that only allowed one person to pass. On the cold stone walls on both sides of the passage, the magic words written with wands decades ago were silently telling the blood debts of the Third Reich with their scarlet strokes. The stairs went deep underground for who knows how many meters, and even the fluorescent light on the wand could not penetrate the darkness like an iron curtain.

Professor McGonagall felt that this passage had no end, and the strange howling coming from far away made her sweat. Just when she wanted to ask Dumbledore how far it was, the headmaster of Hogwarts suddenly stopped.

The Transfiguration Professor was caught off guard and bumped into Dumbledore's back.

"I'm sorry, Minerva, I should have reminded you." Dumbledore stood still, reached out to pull Professor McGonagall up from the steps, and then tapped the stone wall on the left side of the passage with his wand.

The jagged boulder suddenly disappeared, replaced by an exquisite mahogany door inlaid with frosted glass made of white crystal. In the center of the isosceles obtuse triangle top decoration, brass letters spelled out a name: Gregorovitch Wand Shop.

There is another line of small words below: War can't stop me from opening the door.

Dumbledore pushed the door open and Professor McGonagall followed quickly. The wrought iron bell on the door lintel rang crisply, and the rich aroma of wood immediately filled the air.

Compared to the dilapidated, cramped and dirty Ollivander's Wand Shop in Diagon Alley, this place looks much neater and more elegant. A whole dragon skin is laid as a carpet on the beech wood floor, and the chandeliers make the glass counters along the wall sparkle.

Under the spotless glass display cover, magic wands are classified according to the wood used, core material, length and thickness, and placed on the black velvet lining, waiting for the right wizard to hold their handles and emit magical light.

Almost at the moment of hearing the doorbell, a short and fat old man in pajamas rushed out from the beaded curtain at the back of the shop. He had a ruddy face, bright eyes, a beard that was like a lion's mane, and a bit of anger at being disturbed from his sweet dreams. With the red pointed nightcap on his head, he looked like a bad-tempered Santa Claus.

"Welcome, may I ask--" the short and fat old man recited the welcome words familiarly, and the moment he saw the visitor's face clearly, he immediately raised his voice, "Albus Dumbledore?! Get out! You are not welcome here!"

"Good evening, Gregorovitch," Dumbledore said in German. "I would like to meet your grandson."

Gregorovitch, the German wandmaker, lost all color in his red cheeks when he heard the word "grandson". He stomped to Dumbledore, raised a stubby finger, and growled with spit flying, "I have said it many times in my letter - I! Don't have! A grandson!"

Dumbledore maintained a polite smile: "Really? I don't believe it."

"I don't care if you believe it or not!" Gregorovitch roared. "Get out!"

"Hogwarts Academy has already started recruiting students for the new year." Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't heard anything. "It's a pity that we have to compete with Durmstrang Academy for students. But I believe that he will receive a good education and training at Hogwarts, including -"

"Even Durmstrang won't recruit that bastard! That monster who tarnishes the bloodline!" Gregorovitch's roar was as loud as thunder.

Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed with a sly light: "So you do have a grandson?"

"I—" Gregorovitch was at a loss for words.

"Merlin's beard!" Professor McGonagall suddenly exclaimed, "She is..."

Dumbledore and Gregorovitch looked at the beaded curtain at the back of the shop at the same time, and saw a black-haired woman slowly appearing in a wheelchair. Her skin was unhealthily pale, with blue veins wrapped around her sickly thin body, and even her ribs could be seen protruding from her collar.

Her face looked like a skull, but her former beauty could still be seen. Her eyes, sunken in the dark eye sockets, were darker than black crystals, but her gaze was dull and wooden to the extreme. After seeing Gregorovitch's nervous expression, she said in a hollow voice, "I agree... to let my son... go to Hogwarts..."

After saying this, the last bit of vitality in her eyes disappeared. She just sat in the wheelchair, not speaking, not blinking, and even breathing very weakly, like an uncomfortable puppet.

"So, she is your daughter." Dumbledore spoke softly, as if afraid of shattering the fragile figure in the wheelchair. "The most outstanding prophet in the Gregorovitch family, the mother of your grandson, who went crazy after giving birth to a half-blood child... Lenara."

Gregorovitch's face was livid, and he strode angrily to his daughter. Professor McGonagall drew her own wand, fearing that Gregorovitch would be blinded by anger and hurt this poor and innocent woman.

But no tragedy of parricide occurred. Gregorovitch just knelt weakly beside the wheelchair, looked up at his daughter's dull and lifeless face, and said hoarsely: "Twelve years ago, I couldn't stop you from becoming the bride of the giant. Twelve years later, I can't stop your willfulness. Why? My Lenara, what did you see in the prophecy? Tell me, please? Please, tell Dad..."