My Little Pony: Another World Adventure

Hogwarts, basement kitchens.

As the old saying goes: Even the most powerful wizard cannot perform magic on an empty stomach. After experiencing the erosion of warm snow, the riot of mad dragons and the raid of orcs, dozens of ancient hearths located inside the hills have been repaired time and again by the house elves using their unique magic, feeding their masters with bubbling soup and fluffy and soft bread.

There were four long tables in the kitchen, whose relative positions were exactly the same as the long tables of the four colleges in the hall above the kitchen. House-elves wearing pillowcases embroidered with the Hogwarts school emblem brought down all kinds of food from the stove and diligently filled the golden plates on the tables again and again.

Today, in front of the stove at the deepest part of the kitchen - this stove was usually only used to cook meals for the professors - a much smaller table was temporarily set up, and the people sitting around the table were not proper guests, but a skinny fugitive.

The Death Eaters devoured the food voraciously. After getting used to the food prepared by the Dementors in Azkaban, they had no intention of using cutlery when they tasted the taste of their alma mater again. They simply reached into the plates with their hands with dirty long nails, grabbed the food, and stuffed it into their mouths, chewing it vigorously.

The sounds of swallowing and biting filled the air. They had completely lost the demeanor of so-called "pure-blood wizards" and were simply like a group of pigs lying in front of a trough.

Of course, in between meals, the Death Eaters would still steal glances at the tall, red-haired figure at the head of the table with a mixture of curiosity and awe.

Who would have thought that this was a new kid? When they first started school, their minds were full of fun during breaks and what to eat at night. Their biggest concern was when the Quidditch match would be held. They didn't even think that they would become loyal servants of the Dark Lord in the future.

But they had to admit that this "eleven-year-old child" possessed even more dark and profound majesty than the master they once served.

Latan turned his back to these sinners, the shadow of the golden lion was as faint as a veil, his left hand held his right wrist behind his back, his eyes lowered, quietly watching the stewed lamb chops boiling on the stove in front of him, bright red flames dancing in his black pupils.

Bring them together...

I am not an excellent politician, an outstanding leader, or even a brilliant strategist. I am just a scholar and a warrior. I immerse myself in the sea of ​​books and study obscure knowledge; I charge into battle and chop off the heads of my enemies. This is what I am good at.

Father, what can I do? How can I fulfill this mission? Why can only I do it?

A piece of fabric on the sleeve suddenly separated from the whole, twisted itself and raised its head, turning into a venomous snake that looked blue but actually had countless colors. He climbed up along Latan's arm, and his forked snake tongue hissed in the red lion's ear.

"I found a new friend." Viper said teasingly, "You're going to like it, Magnus."

"The master of the Mad Dragon virus, a traveler from the Forbidden Forest." Latan's lips barely moved, and the sound that came out from between his teeth was almost the same as a snake's hiss. "Killing it would be the greatest help. I would love to nail its head to a varnished wooden board and decorate the wall of my dormitory."

The Viper sneered.

"'He' only asked us to supervise you," he said. "Perhaps your smart eyes have noticed that I and those three guys have no entity, just projections. We can see, speak, and sense, but to take action 'here'... No, no, no, I don't want to make 'him' angry."

“Lie! You forked tongue!” Latan growled in High Gothic, his voice like a clarion call. “But I was briefly blessed with the power of the Lion.”

"Ah, no wonder he's mad at you now."

The venomous snake nodded to the pale shadow of the golden-maned lion. "Well, anyway, my forked tongue has helped you to gain an ally. Whether you want to accept him or cut off his head and use it as a bedside lamp is none of my business. I wish you a clear mind and fewer long-distance calls, my brother."

As mysteriously as he had appeared, the serpent melted onto Ratan's sleeve, looking like a pool of colorful oil paint, disappearing in a hundredth of the blink of an eye.

Latan frowned, and the lamb stew with thyme suddenly became bland and disgusting. His right eye began to hurt again.

Bring them together...

Well, father, if this is my mission, then I will do it with everything I have.

The chewing sounds behind him gradually stopped, and Latan felt the Death Eaters' eyes focused on his back. The long wait made them confused and suspicious.

They may be weak and pale, but they are a group of ruthless desperadoes after all. It is not possible to gain their respect by just talking.

Latan picked up a few basil leaves from the mantel and sprinkled them into the lamb stew. The steam from the boiling soup suddenly added a unique flavor. "Cooking is one of the original magical skills mastered by humans." He said in English, picked up the soup pot from the flames with his bare hands, and turned around to put it on the Death Eaters' table.

"Magic can make wheat grow in the field, can make a rabbit bigger than a bull, we can use a magic wand to turn a piece of dead meat into rock. But..."

The stewed lamb was pushed to the center of the table. Latan saw the Death Eaters staring at the Soul-Eating Wand that had turned into a ring on the middle finger of his right hand with shock and fear. No one was more familiar with the suffocating coldness of the Dementors than them.

"But with a simple flame, a little salt extracted from seawater or a mineral deposit, and a ritual that even a Muggle could master, it becomes one of the three great exceptions to Gamp's Transfiguration Theorem. Even Merlin, even Grindelwald, even Dumbledore, even Voldemort—"

The mention of the name without warning made the Death Eaters flinch, but Lucius was the quickest to react and quickly puffed out his chest, eager to declare his loyalty to the Red Lord.

"—nor can you conjure food out of thin air. Which makes me wonder, when our first human ancestors first put their prey on the fire, was the hand that turned the wood belonging to a Muggle... or a wizard?"

The Death Eaters opened their mouths wide. This question instantly elevated their belief in "wizard supremacy" to the level of "wizard origin theory". In front of this question, the things they did under Voldemort (torturing Muggles for fun) were just like children's fights.

"Why keep silent?"

Latan's voice was soft and low, with a power that penetrated people's hearts and almost distorted reality. The Soul-Eating Wand created a terrifying shadow behind him. His already majestic body seemed to occupy every inch of space in the underground kitchen, making all living beings present feel suffocated, and their bodies and souls were captured by fear.

"Am I not talking to the most brilliant and radical people in the wizarding world? Does the Dark Lord expect to rule the wizarding world with your dull, pedantic and ignorant subordinates? Are the people I sent Lucius to rescue a bunch of dull-minded and low-IQ scum?"

The stinging right eye ignited red fire, and Latan saw their faces full of fear dyed blood red. The busy house elves around him made a hissing sound like mice being crushed, and desperately hit their own heads with pots and spoons, trying to calm their master's anger in this way.

But they were wrong about one thing. Latan was not angry. Under his majestic demeanor, he wanted to leave immediately. He was more suitable to bury himself in a pile of books and study hard. Acting as a demon king in front of the fugitive was not what he expected.

but……

Bring them together...

The shadow disappeared, and the Soul Devouring Wand was quietly placed on the middle finger of Latan's right hand. He said calmly to the Death Eaters with trembling teeth: "Answer me."

The gray-haired, stocky Death Eater raised a shaking hand.

"You've been a student at Hogwarts for at least twenty years, Dawlish." Latan looked at him with pity and contempt. "Don't act like a child who just got a wand. If you have something to say, just say it."

"My Lord." Dawlish subconsciously used the honorific for Voldemort, which was completely different from his attitude towards Latan in the warehouse of Flourish and Blotts. "I got 'O (highest grade evaluation)' in both my NEWTs (Final Wizarding Tests) History of Magic and Transfiguration."

Latan smiled coldly. "Do you need me to praise you? Give you a few chocolate frogs as a reward?" The Death Eaters laughed in unison, even though their faces were covered with cold sweat. "I'm disappointed." They stopped laughing immediately.

"You should have been outstanding wizards and scholars, but laziness and arrogance turned you into the lowest executioners and executioners. You used your talents, magic and wands to torture Muggles, and you felt proud and superior about this huge waste."

The Death Eaters were silent. Latan closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. "For the so-called pure-blood and half-blood disputes, for the so-called superiority of the nobility, you talented people have degenerated into rats in the gutter. Even if you return to your alma mater, you can't get rid of the identity of criminals. Because of Voldemort's short-sightedness--"

"My Lord!" A woman with a thick frame and high cheekbones stood up suddenly, her swollen eyes flashing fiercely under her curly black hair. Bellatrix Lestrange, Latarn was deeply impressed by the description of her in the original Harry Potter. "Although we are scum and criminals, I will never allow you to slander the great Dark Lord!"

Just like in the original book, this woman has a fanatical love and loyalty to Voldemort, and the head of her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange, the Death Eater sitting next to her, could probably feed a flock of Scottish Highland sheep.

Bellatrix's offense made the Death Eaters' eyes flicker. These ruthless criminals certainly would not be convinced by a few words. They were all waiting for someone to challenge the authority of the new king, so that they could witness the king's fall or drink the blood of their colleagues.

They won't lose anyway.

Unite this group of scumbags...

"Great?" Latan stared at Bella with the same eyes as a community volunteer looking at a disabled person. "Voldemort does have magical talent. He is full of thirst for knowledge and is proficient in winning people's hearts. But great? Haha... maybe you should listen to his own answer."

Bella was startled, and looked at a black diary, a golden wine cup (taken from the cellar of Gringotts), and a dusty crown (taken from the Room of Requirement) flying out from the inner pocket of Latan's robe. Each item exuded a damp and gloomy atmosphere, as if a pair of scarlet snake eyes were peeping at the outside world from the shadows they cast.

"Three Horcruxes, three pieces of souls." Ratan raised his right hand, and countless tiny deformed faces on the surface of the Soul-Seizing Ring surged and shattered like bubbles in boiling water. "Enough to let your Lord Voldemort walk in the world again."

Like a sea anemone spreading its tentacles to hunt, the Soul-Eating Ring exploded into countless tiny black lines, which entangled and wrapped the three Horcruxes, forming a black sphere suspended in the air. Then the surface of the sphere collapsed, outlining a human-shaped body.

Finally, in the horrified eyes of the Death Eaters, the pale and thin figure of Tom Marvolo Riddle (I Am Lord Voldemort) took shape in the tar-like substance, and fell beside Latane in a black robe like a shroud.

His scarlet eyes opened on his face that looked like melted wax. His sharper-than-a-knife gaze swept over the terrified Death Eaters. His snake-like nostrils flared slightly: "I smell the stench of traitors!"