Chapter 1183 Future looks good

Albus was assassinated, although it was Ron Weasley who ended up in the hospital.

Madam Pomfrey told Pomona before the story got around the school, and Albus didn't seem to want to find out who the real murderer was, nor did he place the blame on Horace Slughorn Head plan.

He wanted to make such a big deal into a small one, let it disappear without a trace.

To accomplish this goal, the support of the deans of several colleges is required. The situation in Gryffindor is more troublesome, because the cause of this incident is that a girl secretly brought the love potion into the school. If it is not handled properly, the girl may will be fired.

Not everyone will be as lucky as Scamander when they get fired, the vast majority will be poor and end up in places like Knockturn Alley.

Or worse, a pure-blood wizard would definitely not seek a Muggle if he wanted a mistress. It's really sad that a witch has been reduced to that level, but everyone has to bear the consequences of what they do when they do things.

Although Pomona understood that Albus hoped that she could restrain Hufflepuff, who liked to spread rumors, she couldn't help but go to him.

Murder is not a trivial matter in any way, even if it was an attempted murder, if Harry hadn't thought of saving Ron Weasley with bezoar at that time, Hogwarts would have been murdered.

This is the first murder case in the school since the Chamber of Secrets incident, not to mention that the "dead" is Ron, Harry's best friend.

Of course, Ron was alive now, but as long as the killer wasn't caught, the danger was still there, and Albus couldn't just let it go.

She hurried from the medical wing to the headmaster's office, knocked on the door symbolically and entered, where Albus was buried in his desk writing.

"I heard you were almost assassinated," said Pomona, angrily. "Do you know who did it?"

Albus put down his pen.

"I didn't expect you to come," said the old wizard in a weary voice. "Did Severus tell you?"

"No, how do you think he told me?"

"I told him not to let the news get out, maybe he needs your help," said Albus in a calm, but weird tone.

She felt very sick.

"Are you still angry?" Pomona asked.

"Why angry?" Albus asked.

She couldn't speak.

"You don't want to catch the murderer?" Pomona asked. "It would be a hidden danger to keep him in the castle."

"No, I don't want to." Albus folded his writing and put it in an envelope.

Pomona looked at his blackened withered hand, it looked terrible, and it was spreading, nothing seemed to stop it.

"tell me why?"

"Has no one told you the most basic manners? What do you say when you ask someone to do something?" Albus said a little fiercely.

She was very angry, turned around and was about to leave.

"It's an art of domination, Pomona," said Albus calmly, his tone normal this time. "In terms of personal safety, I also think that drastic measures are to be taken, but I don't intend to I can sleep peacefully and destroy the current situation."

"What's going on now?" asked Pomona.

"They'll think I'm scared of people who plot against me. In the words of a Muggle emperor, 'I'm not afraid of schemers who get up at nine in the morning and put on clean shirts'." Albus said slowly. Standing up, he tried to pace around the office as usual, but it was already a bit difficult for him to barely stand with his hands on the table.

"Don't be too aggressive, Albus."

"You must know the importance of this matter." Albus said. "The Muggle emperor I just mentioned is named Napoleon. I think you should know him. On Christmas Day in 1800, he and his wife made an appointment. Josephine and Josephine's daughter drove two carriages back into the opera house to listen to the opera. When the carriage passed a narrow alley, the driver found an empty carriage without a harness, so they had to stop and put the empty carriage Pulling aside, the coachman whipped the carriage and let the carriage drive away. The coachman wanted to go forward, but this action saved Napoleon's life. The explosives exploded between the first and second carriages, killing him. More than 20 passers-by were killed, but Napoleon’s family was fine. Napoleon did not turn back. He came to the Opera House, entered his usual box, and calmly told the people around him that someone was going to blow him up. Someone gave him a program list, and that night was Merton's new work "Genesis". Napoleon behaved very calmly, not at all like a person who had just been assassinated. He was only in his 30s at that time, and I had already Over 150 years old, why should I act more restless than a young man?"

Question marks filled Pomona's mind.

"The situation in France was very bad at that time. There were many hidden plots and possible consequences. We must either forgive the criminal and do nothing like Augustus, or take severe measures to ensure that Order and stability, and just expulsion is far from enough, it means that I will send a student who is underage and out of society to Azkaban, and let him die insanely surrounded by dementors. "

Albus shook his head. "Leave it alone, Severus will take care of the rest, you just need to keep the rumors out of the school."

"You say so much, but you are actually protecting Romilda Vane?" Pomona asked, "because she used the love potion."

"Not just Romilda Vane," said Albus. "I want to protect you all."

"Then you should know that she has to accept any punishment." Pomona said sternly, "If you do something wrong, you should be responsible for your actions. This is also part of 'teaching'."

"You really look like Doris Umbridge when you do that," Albus said, laughing. "Are you going to let Filch give her a few whips?"

Pomona was dying of anger.

"How can you still laugh?" She said angrily.

"You only live once, so why not be happy about it." Albus tried to open a lemon sherbet and put it in his mouth, but his stiff hands made it difficult for him to do even such a simple thing.

Pomona didn't feel the need to use a wand to open a candy wrapper either, so she went to help him open it, and put the Lemon Sherbet to his mouth.

Albus didn't eat, his blue eyes staring straight at her through half-moon spectacles.

"Did the Triwizard Tournament start on Christmas?" said Albus, looking her in the eyes. "I thought he went back after the ball."

"Igor Karkaroff is pestering him." Pomona replied calmly, "He just wants to find a place where I can rest."

"And you opened the door for him." Albus sighed. "Did he make you happy?"

"More than joy," she said firmly. "Have you ever fallen in love with a woman?"

Albus saw disappointment in his eyes.

Maybe she was a stupid woman in his eyes too.

She put the peeled sugar on his desk.

"I'll do as you say," she whispered, before turning to leave.

"I hope you will understand someday." Albus said loudly behind her just as she was about to open the door to leave. Poison hurts more."

"How do you know that?" Pomona looked back at the silver-haired wizard in a funny star robe, "You never loved anyone."

After she finished speaking, she left the principal's office and closed the door behind her.

"What do you want to say to me, Englishman?" Napoleon Bonaparte ate at a simple little round table in his study, as the biography says. There was only one soup, two different kinds of grilled meat, one fried fish, two buns and a small plate of macarons.

His meals were too simple to even be called rich, but Napoleon always remembered to eat on time, and he always worried about his family's inherited stomach problems. As a ritual, a meal takes three hours for Bourbon royals.

"I heard that your visit to Egypt this time was quite a success." Severus smiled flatteringly.

"It depends on what you're talking about." Napoleon said, chewing his fried fish. "What on earth do you want, Englishman? If you beat around the bush again, leave immediately. I haven't touched me for sixteen months." Wife's bed."

In the study, a young officer let out a chuckle.

Those who could enter the study at this time should be Napoleon's confidantes. Pomona tried to connect these casual-looking young people with the people in the portrait.

"When you returned from Italy last year, you received a hero's reception, but this time the Senate seems to be very dissatisfied with your unauthorized return. They really didn't hold a banquet for you." Severus said, "I understand that feeling, When the soldiers are needed, they will find ways to treat them well. Once the crisis is over, the soldiers become a threat..."

"I know what's wrong." Conseil whispered in Pomona's ear, "Napoleon did not live in the Tuileries Palace when he returned from Egypt. Sephine isn't home, and she's hooked up with a young officer."

"Oh!" Pomona covered her mouth to keep herself from exclaiming.

"Napoleon locked Josephine out of the door. It was already late at night. She cried and begged for a long time outside the door before Napoleon let her in."

Pomona looked out the window, the sun was shining brightly, clearly it was noon.

"This palace is not a memory, it may be Napoleon's daydream, and we are in his dream." Conseil said.

"But it doesn't look fake at all." Pomona looked around.

Then a piercing chill rose from behind her.

Severus was looking at her and Conseil with terrible eyes.

"What did he just say?" Napoleon asked Conseil.

"Did you encounter gods and ghosts in Egypt, General," said Conseil in French, "and the Pharaoh's curse."

Napoleon's eyes widened.

"They are wizards, and they saw your future in the crystal ball," said Gonceil.

"Wizard?" Napoleon looked at Severus with interest. "Wizards are like that?"

"British wizards don't dress like gypsies." Gonseil shook his head, "But their dressing habits are like this, loose and strange. Even in Paris, they don't know how to dress well."

"Okay." Napoleon was a little shocked, but still very interested and said, "What did they see?"

"You were assassinated because of your tyrannical methods of rule."

"This is not news." The young officer who laughed just now said, "You want to cheat money just because of this?"

"No, Murat, listen to them." Napoleon smiled. "Did they say when I would be assassinated?"

"Next year's Christmas."

The young officer called Murat sneered, but Napoleon laughed.

"They're here to deliver good news, Murat, didn't you hear that? Next year I'll be the ruler, not a prisoner, and we'll succeed this time." Napoleon said to the man with curly black hair like a poodle, as if said the not-so-intelligent officer, and Napoleon looked at Conseil again: "What reward do they want? Let's just say, we've raised a lot of money just now."

Pomona curled her lips, and suddenly felt that Josephine's basin of cold water was really timely.

"They want to borrow troops from you, General," said Gonceil. "They may have to deal with the army of the undead in Egypt."