Harry Potter: I'm the Rolling King at Hogwarts

The weather in the UK is very strange. It was still cloudy in the morning, and now the sun is shining brightly at noon, although there are some "artificial" elements in it.

At this time, in Hogsmeade Village, inside the Pig's Head Bar.

Two old men stood opposite each other, one inside the bar and one outside the bar. They both had long silver beards hanging on their chests, and they looked somewhat similar in appearance.

The guy at the bar poured a butterbeer for the guy outside.

"Haha, I really didn't expect you to have the nerve to come over and look at your beard. Why has it become shorter?"

Aberforth's words were full of sarcasm. He took a swig of butterbeer and some of the wine spilled on his white beard, but he didn't care at all. He took out a photo from his pocket. It was Dumbledore. It was secretly photographed by a student at Hogwarts when his beard was just cut off.

Albus Dumbledore put down the butterbeer in his hand, feeling it was boring. He smiled slightly and touched his long beard, which was missing a large part.

"The butterbeer you have here is not sweet enough to taste good. Ms. Rosmerta's butterbeer is more palatable."

"You..." Aberforth raised his fist as big as a sandbag, ready to strike.

"Creak-" The old wooden door was pushed open, making an unpleasant sound of a cat scratching the glass.

"Who came here at this time? Didn't you see the closing sign on the door?" Aberforth shouted, slightly drunk.

He took a closer look and said, "It turns out to be you, but now this place is closed..."

After saying that, he drank a lot of brandy as if no one else was watching, burped, and looked at Albus Dumbledore.

"Look, it's this little wizard who gave me this photo, hiccup!"

Albert looked at his principal awkwardly. Fortunately, he was not angry. He just nodded to Albert and said, "Albert, you came at the right time, otherwise this bar owner will beat me."

Albert suddenly felt that he was a little redundant. He sat down uncomfortably and said, "Professor, what's the matter with you calling me here?"

At the mention of this, Albus took out a thick envelope from his pocket and handed it to Albert.

"This is the Order of Merlin, Third Class, awarded to you by Sir Merlin, and a letter for you."

Albert was still muttering under his breath, questioning why Sir Merlin didn't hold a special investiture ceremony for him.

Of course, this muttering did not escape the ears of both Dumbledores.

Aberforth was the first to go crazy. As soon as he spoke, the smell of alcohol spurted out, "You are only at level three, and you want Sir Merlin to give you an award ceremony? I have been awarded level two, and that's it. At that time, those bad old men were still..." They hesitated to do it for me, saying that their legs were in trouble, huh!"

He put the wine glass heavily on the bar, "I was..."

Before he finished speaking, he realized something, glanced sideways at Albus Dumbledore, snorted coldly, and said nothing.

Albus looked at Albert, smiled kindly, patted Albert's shoulder gently, and said: "Don't be discouraged. If I remember correctly, you should be the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin in history. From now on, There are opportunities."

Albert's eyes jumped back and forth between the two Dumbledores, his brain running at high speed, and he understood why Aberforth could win the Second Class Merlin Order.

But adhering to the attitude of not hurting the old professor, Albert said no more and turned to ask other questions.

"Professor, what do the Ministry of Magic plan to do with Lockhart?"

Albus Dumbledore recalled the scene of the Wizengamot meeting yesterday, "We were interrogating him at the time, and he was so scared that he wet his pants and claimed that the reports in the Daily Prophet were false, but we found many witnesses, All can prove his crime...

Finally, by a unanimous vote of almost everyone, he was sentenced to seven years in Azkaban. "

When he heard "Azkaban", Albert was very doubtful whether Lockhart could last seven years in it. I'm afraid Lockhart would collapse in less than a year, right?

"Sure enough, Azkaban is the final destination of every Hogwarts student..." Albert murmured in a low voice. The two Dumbledores didn't hear clearly, otherwise they would definitely give him a beating.

Albus Dumbledore slapped his forehead and said, "Oh yes, Albert, as soon as you mentioned Lockhart, I remembered another thing about you."

Albert:? ? ?

"Professor, I have nothing to do with Lockhart, do I? I didn't hurt him, and I saved part of his injuries."

After Albert said this, he realized something was wrong. It was as if he was announcing his family status, and he felt like he didn't have 300 taels of silver in this place.

Sure enough, Aberforth looked at him strangely, as if he wanted to punch him in the nose.

Albus shook his head and laughed, "You should have read the report about Lockhart?"

Albert nodded. He firmly believed that this was the curse of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship.

"It's the reporter Rita Skeeter. She heard that you were the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin and couldn't wait to have an exclusive interview with you.

I must remind you that she has loved writing various short stories since she was a student. "

"Huh?" Albert's jaw couldn't be closed. He could laugh at Newt and Lockhart before, but unexpectedly, it was his turn to be the next victim.

Professor Dumbledore patted Albert on the shoulder and said earnestly: "Go out more and relax more, don't stay in your little house all day long, don't be like Snape.

See more of the Weasley family. I heard from Arthur that their family won a lottery and are going to travel to Egypt. You should also go out more and take a look at the outside scenery. Maybe you will gain something different. "

After saying that, he playfully winked at Albert Station, and with a "swish", the phantom disappeared.

Is this a reminder to myself to run away abroad?Escape from Rita Skeeter?

But Albert didn't intend to do this. He acted upright and stood firm, and Rita Skeeter would never be able to write gossip about him.

"Ugh—" Aberforth vomited, "It's so disgusting..."

He didn't know whether it was because his brother was vomiting because he winked playfully, or because he was drinking and vomiting.