Hogwarts magic is justice

Chapter 27 Seminar

"Akaligar Spell Techniques Seminar?"

Looking at the invitation in his hand, the young wizard was a little confused: "This has been held 386 times already?"

Dumbledore laughed: "No, this 386th class refers to the 386th year. This year it's being held in the United States. The professors at the school are all very busy, so you're representing Hogwarts."

The first part of that statement is correct. The professors at Hogwarts are very busy, extremely busy. Each professor has to teach seven years' worth of specialized courses. Apart from weekends, they only have two and a half days off out of five days a week. Even so, they still have to answer questions for the young wizards who are eager to learn.

But the second half of this sentence is seriously flawed!

"Me, a student, representing Hogwarts? Headmaster, isn't that inappropriate?"

"No, there is no one more suitable than you."

That's true. His classes can be brought back by the professors, but Irving really can't teach the professors' classes. He hasn't even looked at the books for sixth and seventh grade classes.

"Okay, when do we leave?"

"Before Halloween."

Owen's body stiffened. He looked up and stared intently at Dumbledore: "Headmaster, if you don't want my help, you can just say so. There's no need to send me all the way to America all of a sudden, is there?"

Dumbledore's eyes flickered. "Mr. Owen, why do you say that?"

"Headmaster..." Owen organized his thoughts before speaking, "I know Professor Quirrell. I've attended his Muggle Studies class, and the current Professor Quirrell is definitely not the same one as before."

Dumbledore sighed deeply: "I know. Last year, I approved his application. During the holidays, he went out to prepare lessons, and when he came back... he became like this, so we suspect..."

"There's no doubt about it. I can clearly sense that Quirrell possesses two completely different kinds of magic."

Dumbledore couldn't sit still any longer. He stood up and walked over to the young wizard: "Mr. Owen, are you... sure?"

"Of course, I made up my mind a long time ago, which is why I never took Defense Against the Dark Arts class, for fear of acting impulsively."

Dumbledore laughed and gave the young wizard a gentle hug. "You did very well, Mr. Owen, but you still have to go to America this time. It would be even better if you could come back for Christmas."

"All right."

When Irving finished packing and was ready to leave, he learned that there was no Floodway from Britain to America. To get there, he either had to ride his own bike, teleport along the way, or use Muggle methods.

Irving chose the airplane.

When he appeared at the airport dressed in an old aristocratic style, he was quite eye-catching. He boarded the plane, sat down, and traveled safely for more than ten hours. After getting off the plane, he calmly opened the note and shook his wand a few times on the main road.

"squeak!!!"

A taxi pulled up in front of him, sparks flying: "Sir, it's a pleasure to serve you!"

Irving's lips twitched, but then he thought, this taxi should be better than that bus. Even if someone is crazy, at least the space inside this car is smaller than that of a bus, right?

But after he got into the car, he realized, wow, the Seamless Stretch Spell!

What should have been a five-seater taxi has been expanded to thirty seats. The space inside is no smaller than that of a bus in the UK!

They arrived at their destination. The little wizard, pale-faced, got out of the car, turned around, and upon finding a trash can, couldn't help but fly over: Yue!!!

Good heavens, he managed to dodge the phoenix's teleportation, but who would have thought that even in this world, he still couldn't escape the speed and passion.

After recovering somewhat, he finally saw the gathering place. He had to admit that it was much better than those 'dirty and run-down' places in England; at least it was a hotel.

The hotel only has fifteen floors, but the gathering place is on the seventeenth floor. Starting from the sixteenth floor, a Muggle banishing charm has been cast, so people without magic cannot see the two floors above.

Irving entered the elevator and saw the button for the seventeenth floor. When the elevator doors opened, the corner of his mouth twitched again.

A wizard, you can tell at a glance that he is a wizard.

The wizards on this floor weren't wearing robes or pointed hats meant to "poke the sky," but their attire... well, it was completely different from that of normal Muggles.

Sleeveless vests over sweaters, and shorts over trousers are everywhere. If a Muggle accidentally walked in, he would definitely be scared away immediately, thinking he had entered a mental hospital!

"Honey, are you... in the wrong place?"

A very tall woman spotted the young wizard and approached him in a very friendly manner. Owen nodded to her and said, "No, ma'am. I'm here on behalf of Hogwarts. My name is Owen Carrot."

The noise suddenly stopped, and everyone looked at the little wizard, especially when they saw the old aristocratic-style clothes he was wearing. Their eyes lit up with curiosity!

"Great, darling, you've finally arrived. Now, please remove all the magic suppressors from your body."

Irving paused for a moment, then tilted his head and looked at the extremely tall woman, saying, "You are...?"

"My dear, my name is Orim Maxim, the headmaster of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was invited by Dumbledore to try and help you with your troubles. As you know, the magic of giants..."

She couldn't say anything more, because the moment she uttered her name, Owen knew who she was. He swiftly removed the suppressor from his body, and then his overflowing magic, like a gust of wind, swept past everyone.

"OMG!"

Seeing the magic emanating from the young wizard like a flame, all the wizards present were speechless with astonishment.

The giant female headmistress closest to him, looking at the magical 'flame' that was almost as tall as her, didn't know what to say.

The rapidly increasing magic power did not make Owen feel uncomfortable. On the contrary, he felt quite good. At least the dizziness he had experienced while riding in the car was completely gone.

"Okay, honey, hurry up and put on the suppressor."

After Owen was dressed, the magical flames disappeared, and he returned to his former handsome little wizard form.

"That's wonderful, Mr. Owen! I have an experiment, but I lack the power of magic to complete it. Would you be willing to help me finish it?"

A witch covered in 'parts' stepped forward, then smiled slightly at him: "My name is Hickman Lalvido, Mr. Owen. Have you heard of me?"

Yes, of course I've heard of it!

The young wizard's eyes lit up. Master Nico Meller had said that if he hadn't accidentally created the Philosopher's Stone, then the name of the most powerful alchemist in the last hundred years would be Sikman Lalvido.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, madam. Of course I've heard of your name; Master Nico once told me about it."

"Nico, how is he?"

The little wizard's lips curled into a smile. Thinking of the garden that had been turned into a running track before he left, he laughed and said, "He must be very happy now."

Two elderly people, whose combined age is nearly 1,400, have a wonderful time racing wheelchairs in the garden every day. In their last letter, they mentioned that they wanted to extend the track to 20 kilometers...