Marvel's Hogwarts Professor

"How are the arrangements in the UK? What information do you have now?" Nick Fury's voice was as serious and oppressive as ever.

It was as if the other party owed him 1 million dollars.

"Sorry, Director, no useful information has been collected yet." The intelligence officer replied nervously.

She seemed to know that all subsequent updates would be enough to arouse the director's anger.

"MI6?" His tone was questioning, but there was no doubt in his voice.

"Ah..., yes, Director." She seemed to be shocked that her Director did not follow the usual routine.

The young female intelligence worker was surprised and nodded quickly.

"Okay, go back to your duties." Nick Fury was silent for a moment and said calmly.

It seemed that it had no impact on him.

However...

The moment the intelligence officer walked out, Nick Fury's face suddenly became extremely grim.

BOOM!

As his palm struck down, the table seemed to be overwhelmed, and it shattered with a bang.

At this moment, Nick Fury didn't seem to care about the table. Instead, various thoughts kept racing through his mind.

Britain must advance in this round no matter what. Even if this was a trap.

But who could resist when the bait thrown by the other party was so tempting? A complete path from an ordinary person to a powerful sorcerer.

Who could resist such temptation!

When he thought about how, under the magic of Grindelwald, Lockhart and others, he and his team were powerless to resist, in addition to feeling aggrieved, there was even more anger and determination.

However, the danger was not small. London would serve as a battlefield, and all forces were stationed in it.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had limited power, not to mention that MI6 was still causing trouble internally. Not to mention taking chestnuts from the fire, it would be good if the opponent didn't stab them in the back.

Alas, after all, he couldn't help it. Unfortunately, high-end combat power was still somewhat lacking.

Tony Stark and the Hulk were already the strongest combat assets they could control. But what followed was obviously insufficient.

Those with strength were respected! Those without strength were vulnerable!

At this moment, suddenly...

"Fury, what happened? Please call me back."

Hearing this voice that he hadn't heard in years but was still familiar, Nick Fury looked up in surprise, and sure enough, a familiar face appeared in front of him.

Blue battle uniform, golden emblem, confident demeanor...

"Carol, you're finally back!"

...

Kamar-Taj

Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!

One by one, the young sorcerer apprentices waved the long sticks in their hands and swung them forward vigorously, making grunting sounds as they exerted themselves.

They were training, conducting the most basic combat exercises. What they had in their hands were not magic weapons, just sticks, with no magic involved.

No, to be precise, the place where they were training had been enchanted with a spell related to gravity.

It was visible to the naked eye that every time they waved their arms and struck forward, sweat flowed from their necks into their clothes like water.

It seemed to indicate the pressure they were under and the hard training they were receiving.

This was to build their physical strength. As sorcerers of Kamar-Taj, the strength of their bodies directly determined the capacity they had to channel the power of the Vishanti.

In other words, it directly determined their magical strength. Therefore, every sorcerer apprentice would experience this kind of arduous training.

Even after becoming an official sorcerer, they would find ways to exercise their bodies and improve their physical strength.

Generally speaking, this kind of training was very grueling. However, they were very excited and even gave their best in every swing and every training session.

Because... The Ancient One was watching from the sidelines.

If they could receive praise from the Ancient One, no matter how slight it was, it would be a great honor and recognition for them.

"They are very hardworking and attentive. They are all a group of good students," the Ancient One suddenly said.

Lockhart, who was standing nearby, also watching everything in the training square, nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Ancient One, every drop of sweat they leave now will save their lives on the battlefield in the future."

"Yes, many people have said similar things like you," the Ancient One said with some emotion. "But, Lockhart, do you believe this?"

Hearing this, Lockhart looked at the sorcerer apprentices who were swinging their long sticks forward to strike hard.

He gave no reply.

Yes, how many people have said that the more you sweat now, the less blood you will shed in the future? That every drop of sweat you shed now will save your life in the future?

But in fact, the group of sorcerer apprentices in front of them had average talents. Even if they trained for another 10 years, they still wouldn't be able to gain as much as Strange could gain in one month in the Vientiane World.

In the entire Kamar-Taj, except for the Ancient One, the longest living person was Arnold, the Guardian Sorcerer of the London Sanctum, who was only 96 years old.

According to the lifespan of an Asgardian, this was still like a child, like a toddler of one or two years old.

Even with a sorcerer's extended lifespan, Arnold should still be in his prime. However, this was already the longest-lived sorcerer of Kamar-Taj.

Arnold himself was a one-in-a-million genius. As for this group of sorcerer apprentices, although their talents were good, they were far inferior to Kaecilius, Arnold, and others.

Not to mention Strange, who seemed to be blessed by the Vishanti.

So, for them, the more they sweat now, the faster they might die on the battlefield in the future. The less talented might actually live longer.

Although this might sound ironic, it was the reality of Kamar-Taj today.

In the training square, the roar of the sorcerer apprentices who were training was deafening. They were full of enthusiasm and had beautiful yearnings for the future in their eyes.

But at this moment, at the edge of the square, the air around the Ancient One was as cold as frost.

Silence is sometimes a silent answer.

"Lockhart, Strange has gone to London," the Ancient One spoke up, breaking the silence.

After Lockhart heard this, he was a little confused. Judging from the information channels he had at his disposal, something important might happen in London next, related to the group of fallen sorcerers.

But for the Ancient One, even the dimensional gods were just minor concerns. What could a group of fallen sorcerers do that would worry her?

His mind was full of doubts, and various possibilities kept appearing in his thoughts. He remained silent.

"Lockhart, you go too. This should be your last chance."

"Think more about what I said to you."

Lockhart was stunned by the words of the Ancient One, and he opened his mouth to ask why. But the moment he opened his mouth, he saw the Ancient One gently wave her hand.

Buzz!

The scene changed, everything in front of him shattered, then reorganized, shattered again, and reorganized again.

It seemed like a long time passed, but it also seemed like it was only a moment.

The next moment, he returned to his office. The familiar dark green wizard robe on the hanger, the magic suitcase in the corner, the notebook with half a page open on the tan solid wood table in front of him...

At this moment, Lockhart's eyes were a little confused. It seemed that he was still thinking about the last words the Ancient One had said.

What was the "last chance"?

He didn't quite understand, or rather, he didn't want to understand.