I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 119 I...I'll run away!

The woods were pitch black.

Moreover, the person on the ground was covered in snowflakes and mud (left over from being dragged).

Ron was a little unsure, after all, running into the Minister of Magic here seemed absurd no matter how you looked at it.

Holding a magic wand.

The fireflies slowly illuminated the face covered in mud.

Ron reached out and brushed most of the dirt off the face, then looked at it carefully before nodding with absolute certainty. "It's Fudge! Look at his chest, he even has the Ministry of Magic's insignia!"

"What?"

Like a bolt from the blue.

Hermione staggered back a few steps, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at the stiff man lying on the ground.

No—how could that be?

She doesn't believe it.

But reality wouldn't allow her to disbelieve it, because that face looked familiar to her.

I think I saw it in The Daily Prophet.

"It's Fudge!" Luna, who was standing next to her, also came over, a look of curiosity appearing on her flushed face.

As the Lovegood father and daughter who firmly believed that Connery Fudge had raised an army of fire spirits, she was quite familiar with Fudge.

Her father, Xenophilius Lovegood, could write eight articles a week in The Quibbler denouncing Fudge.

It's hard not to be familiar with them!

"I...I attacked the Minister of Magic!" Hermione covered her mouth in horror, her face turning deathly pale.

My mind automatically conjured up all sorts of tragic scenarios that were about to unfold.

First of all, she will definitely be expelled from Hogwarts.

Secondly, she would be tried for assaulting the Minister of Magic.

With her limited legal knowledge.

For her crimes, a life sentence for Azkaban would be almost certain.

"What should I do! What should I do! Will I be thrown into Azkaban?!"

"I—" The little witch lost her composure for the first time. She held her head and paced back and forth, all sorts of thoughts popping into her mind.

Then the whispers of a wicked boy with gray eyes began to play in her head.

"Hi, Miss Granger, the prerequisite for casting a killing curse is not being captured by the Aurors and imprisoned in Azkaban."

Do you know Azkaban?

"Oh! That's a fine place, built on a small island overseas. The air in the prison is thick, damp, cold, and lifeless. You'll never see the sun there again; sunlight will be a rare luxury for you. Spending your days in darkness, aimlessly in a cell only a few feet wide, it's time to pretend you're dead. Besides the unbearable loneliness, there are Dementors lurking around, waiting to devour your soul and feast on it."

"Of course, these things can be overcome. As long as you behave and resist going crazy, maybe in a few decades, when you were skin and bones, with sunken eyes, bald, and barely recognizable as a human, you'll be able to get out. Hey! The Ministry of Magic can't really keep you locked up forever, of course, provided they remember you."

"Hehehe~~~ So, do you still want to learn the Killing Curse? If you do, I'll teach you for free!"

Do not--

Hermione, crouching on the ground with her head in her hands, shook her head desperately.

She didn't want to go to Azkaban—no.

Sadness and crying are like feeling nauseous. The closer you get to the breaking point, the more uncomfortable you feel, yet the less you can vomit.

She could only suppress her feelings, a strong sense of responsibility and guilt constantly battering her fragile heart.

"I...I'll run away~" Her reddened eyes finally shed large tears.

But before it could even touch her cheek, it was already frozen solid.

The other young wizards, however, had different expressions. Hannah, being a pure-blood, reacted even more strongly than Hermione.

Her face was deathly pale, and her eyes were filled with confusion, helplessness, and terror.

She seemed to be thinking about her future life in Azkaban—clearly, she had suffered a lot of psychological manipulation from Irving.

As for Justin, his reaction was much milder. Being a Muggle, he didn't know much about the laws of the wizarding world. Although he knew he had gotten into trouble, he didn't take it too seriously.

This should only be considered a prank or something, he thought.

And finally, our little fairy Luna is different from everyone else.

Then, her silver eyes lit up with joy, as if she had accomplished something great. She stepped forward and kicked Fudge a few times with her little feet, as if confirming something.

"We've defeated the evil black wizard's minions!" she said.

Luna was wearing the Christmas present Owen had given her on her little head.

The rabbit ears, made from unicorn tail hair, stand up high.

Her golden hair turned silver, sparkling and incredibly cute.

Ron automatically filtered out the crazy girl's behavior, his eyes fixed entirely on Hermione's god.

It's hard to believe that someone as strong-willed as her would show such an expression.

But the next moment, a strong sense of absurdity surged into his heart like a tidal wave. "I think you don't need to worry about this at all right now!"

He scrambled to his feet and said very calmly, as if asking what to have for dinner, "You only attacked the Minister of Magic."

Then, Harry gave a wry smile and chimed in, "It seems we've attracted all the giant spiders in the forest."

"Hogwarts—the school is doomed!!!" he cried out in despair. Now that Dumbledore was being coerced, he couldn't think of anyone else who could deal with so many dark creatures.

"What?" Hermione, Hannah Justin, and the others were being tortured by the cruel future.

Suddenly, a rustling sound, like the sound of a tide, came from the side.

"Run!!!" Ron shouted.

Then he spoke up, reminding them, "Take Fudge with you! Unless you really want to give him to the giant spider for dinner and then spend the rest of your life in Azkaban!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

On the Black Lake, flames still danced.

Unfortunately, neither the mastermind Dumbledore, nor the executor Owen, nor the participant Professor Flitwick could have predicted that today—the story from the audience would be even more exciting than the one on stage.

"That is—"

Finally, a flurry of snow swept through the forest, swirling up the accumulated snow and causing the trees to creak and groan as they fell to the ground.

At this point, anyone with eyes that weren't blind and ears that weren't deaf noticed the changes in the forest.

"Merlin's beard! What's that?"

"It looks like an eight-eyed giant spider!"

"Eight-eyed giant spiders? So many?"

Thanks to Lockhart's incredible teaching, most of the young wizards halfway up the mountain recognized what the surging monsters were.

"Are those Aragog's descendants?" Of all the wizards, Hagrid was definitely the most clear-headed.

He gazed into the distance at the forbidden forest, his expression one of utter astonishment.

He never knew that Aragog would have so many descendants!

Hagrid always thought there were only about a hundred of them in the forest!

But now—there are hundreds of them just in his field of vision.

Exams are like free money (laughs). I don't know anything when I take them without any preparation.

(End of this chapter)