Harry Potter and the Old Ones

In the end, Dumbledore still didn't say anything about Tiera, but silently returned to Hogwarts with Tiera and Slytherin.

After all, although Dumbledore had lived a hundred and sixteen years in vain, in terms of magical cultivation, accumulation of magical theories, conspiracy, and formation, Tiera could not keep up with him.

But if you are talking about debate, then I'm sorry. You have never even gone to a serious university, and you haven't even studied ideological and moral ethics, modern history, Mao Zedong, Mao Zedong, or dialectics of nature. I, Tiela, have never studied It’s true——

Anyway, I'm not trying to convince you, I just want to make you speechless.

After returning to Hogwart, Slytherin just exchanged a few pleasantries and left the principal's office, leaving only Dumbledore and Tiera behind.

"What? Do you have anything else to do?" Dumbledore asked strangely.

Tiera did not leave with Slytherin, or even had any intention of leaving. Instead, she sat across from Dumbledore's desk and waved in the air for a pot of black tea.

"The Tales of Beedle the Poet" Tiera said with a smile as she held out her hand.

"About this." Dumbledore said calmly, "I still maintain my original view. Compared with your resurrection experiment, I think now...I mean this semester, Harry should be allowed to rest first."

"But the Dark Lord won't rest."

"With you here, doesn't the Dark Lord have to rest whenever we want him to?" Dumbledore asked with a smile, "If you really want to do something to Harry in my name , I will clarify."

"Haha..." Tiera laughed dryly, "Okay, okay."

Tiera smiled and shrugged.

"Then I won't bother you." Tiera said with a smile, stood up and prepared to leave, "Mr. Principal, please also pay attention to rest. Although I just removed the curse from your body, there is still a gap between that curse and your vitality. The connection is too deep, and I have to drain a little more of your life force... So I suggest you take more rest, or ask Mr. Flamel for more elixir."

"Don't worry, I will." Dumbledore responded with a smile and said nonchalantly, "I hope you remember that I am a principal first, and I am responsible for my students. I will give you the power you want. For you, but Harry’s been through so much lately that I really think he deserves a break.”

Tiera smiled and then said, "Believe me, Professor Dumbledore, Harry can't rest at all... To be precise... neither Voldemort nor the Ministry of Magic will let Harry rest."

…

At the same time, at No. 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry was looking out of boredom at the street outside through the dirty and dilapidated windows of the Black family's ancestral home.

As the holidays came to an end, Harry found that he really missed Hogwarts more and more every day.

He couldn't wait to see Hagrid, to play Quidditch, even to walk through the vegetable patch to the greenhouse for Herbology.

It was so pleasant to leave this dirty, rancid old house. Half of the cupboards here were locked tightly. Kreacher always hid in the shadows and cursed viciously when you passed by, but Harry had to pay attention. Said these complaining words within earshot of Sirius.

In fact, living in the anti-Voldemort headquarters was not nearly as fun or exciting as Harry had originally thought. Although members of the Order of the Phoenix came and went regularly, sometimes staying to eat and sometimes just staying for a few minutes to whisper, Mrs. Weasley made sure that Harry and the others were not allowed to listen, either with human or telescopic ears. to any news.

No one, not even Sirius, thought that Harry needed to know more than what he had heard the night he arrived.

On the last day of vacation, while Harry was cleaning Hedwig's droppings off the top of his wardrobe, Ron walked into the bedroom with two envelopes.

"The books are here." He said, throwing an envelope to Harry who was standing on the chair. "It's about time. I thought they forgot about it. It's already here in previous years??"

Harry swept the last bits of shit into a bin bag and tossed the bag over Ron's head into the wastebasket in the corner. The wastebasket swallowed the garbage bag and burped loudly. Harry then opened his letter, and there were two pieces of parchment inside: one reminded him that school would start on September 1st, as usual, and the other told him what books he would need for the next school year.

"There are only two new books," he said, reading from the list. "Standard Spells, Level Five, by Miranda Gorshak...and The Theory of Magical Defense, by Wilbert Slinka."

"--pop!" Fred and George apparated and suddenly appeared next to Harry. He was now accustomed to their routine and would no longer be frightened to fall off his chair.

"We were wondering who ordered Slinka's book," Fred said gently.

"Because this means that the new teacher of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class has finally been confirmed." George said.

"What does this mean?" Harry asked as he jumped down and landed next to them. "What does it mean to finally be sure?"

"Oh, it's like this. A few weeks ago, we used telescopic ears to eavesdrop on the conversation between father and mother." Fred told Harry, "It can be heard from their conversation that Dumbledore seemed to want to do something to Harry. Gewoz is an education reformer, so he submitted a long list of education reform measures a few weeks ago."

"Well... I know this, didn't I tell you..." Harry said, "I was on the scene at the time. Dumbledore submitted his education reform plan to the Wizengamot after my trial."

"No, it wasn't that time." George said, "After that, Dumbledore went to the Ministry of Magic again and submitted a more detailed and complex education reform plan... We didn't hear much about the rest... …”

"I only know that the Ministry of Magic neither agreed nor objected, but decided to send an investigator to investigate the specific situation at Hogwarts before making a decision." Fred said, "I guess Dumbledore took the opportunity to put the Defense Against the Dark Arts The hot potato of magic has been left to the Ministry of Magic."

After saying that, George and Fred laughed evilly at the same time.

"One was fired, one died, one had his memory erased, and the other was locked in a box for nine months." Harry counted them one by one on his fingers, and then he also smiled evilly. "Haha, Dumbledore is so cunning."

…

Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore was rubbing his temples with a headache.

"Look, Principal Dumbledore." Tiera, who was sitting opposite, said with an innocent smile, "I told you, the Ministry of Magic will definitely not give up."

"But this also just solves your headache of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." Tiera added, "You should be happy."