I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 128 The Mystery of My Origins

As the sun rose higher, it stretched everything in the castle into a long, thin line.

The figure standing outside the gate became clearer and clearer.

In a daze, the wind seemed to hear a sigh from that person.

Then, in the steam of the train, everything became unreal.

Looking back, Owen could no longer see clearly; he couldn't see the castle, the forest, or the scenery sinking on the horizon.

It was impossible to see what the old man standing below the gate was feeling as he watched this group of people who were about to leave.

The scorching summer sun did not bring any warmth to the now-empty castle; in fact, the breeze blowing through the hall was rather chilly.

Professor Dumbledore walked through the familiar Great Hall, the spiral staircase, the classrooms, and every place where students might suddenly appear.

This place used to be filled with laughter.

The old headmaster finally couldn't resist and reached out to touch the ancient walls.

His eyes seemed to see through time.

Where his gaze fell, the stories that had unfolded over the past few decades were playing out before his eyes once more.

Suddenly, a young wizard from Gryffindor appeared before them. He had been cursed, and long fangs had grown out of his mouth, making him look ferocious and terrifying.

But the young wizards around him, his companions wearing red bow ties, were not afraid of his appearance. Instead of being afraid of him, they were all laughing.

The laughter was like the whisper of the wind passing through the woods.

The infectious power eventually affected the young wizard as well. Before he could wipe away the tears in his eyes, he held his long fangs in his hands and started giggling foolishly.

It was as ridiculous as it looked.

Among the crowd, a little boy with red hair laughed the loudest. His still-uninjured nose bridge accentuated his handsome face.

The old principal couldn't help but chuckle.

Hogwarts is never short of laughter and joy.

Like a dream, forever filled with joy.

Several hours later, the tall, thin figure turned and left. The desolate figure was stretched long by the setting sun, filling the entire corridor. Professor Dumbledore did not say anything more, only his silent voice lingered in the wind: "A school...should have students, that's good."

Finally, the setting sun could not withstand the waves of the sea, and as the last rays of light that had set the sky ablaze with red dissipated like mist, Professor Dumbledore finally turned his gaze away from the castle.

He has more important things to do.

A guest is coming to visit him today.

The principal's office had been cleaned, and the messy magical gadgets on the table had been removed.

Instead, there were fresh flowers and steaming pastries.

Professor Dumbledore sat in a chair with a cup of fragrant black tea in front of him.

On the other side, in an empty seat, there was a glass of butterbeer on the table.

It was only just getting dark.

The agreed time has not yet arrived.

The old headmaster, dressed in a purple robe, picked up his teacup and quietly looked at the two legendary magical artifacts in front of him.

Ravenclaw's golden crown, Gryffindor's sword.

As the most cherished possessions of the four founders, these items gave him some inspiration: they might indeed hold secrets he was unaware of.

"Squeak!" Just as the old principal was deep in thought, the oak door to the principal's office was pushed open.

Professor Dumbledore merely glanced at the newcomer.

His expression then changed noticeably.

A sense of helplessness mixed with a hint of disappointment.

"You are disappointed to see me." The newcomer pointed out Dumbledore's sudden change in expression without any mercy, showing no respect whatsoever to the greatest wizard.

"I never expected to see you again." Dumbledore slowly rose from his chair, put away the treasure in front of him, then waved his hand. The glass of beer floated away and disappeared into nothingness, followed by a cup of fragrant coffee appearing on the table. "Please sit down!"

"It's probably been fifty years since we last saw each other!"

"Do you think I'm dead?" The newcomer was a witch.

She wore a hat with black lace trim and a dark green fitted gown.

She was wearing a pair of black high heels and sat on the chair with her feet propped up high.

She exudes the elegance of France.

With her red lips slightly parted, she continued, "I should hate you, I shouldn't have come here."

"However—it's obvious I've arrived." She sat in the chair with her arms crossed, her eyes never once glancing at the cup of coffee.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked calmly. Behind his crescent-shaped spectacles was a cold moon that even light could not escape.

Wenda Rozier neither confirmed nor denied this.

She slightly raised her hand, and there seemed to be a pocket in her sleeve. Then a green viper, about 12 feet long and as thick as a human thigh, emerged.

A flicker of surprise crossed the old headmaster's eyes, and he immediately asked, "This is—Nagini? Where did he find it?"

"The primeval forests of Albania," Wenda replied coldly.

"He has been searching for Voldemort's trail, Dumbledore."

"In the forests of Albania, he encountered a remnant soul. He wanted to destroy it, but he was powerless to do so. In the end, the soul escaped, but he unexpectedly met her in the process."

Nagini on the ground had long lost her memories of being human. At this moment, she was like a wild beast, raising her head and staring at the two of them menacingly.

The snake's tongue flicked out continuously, occasionally emitting a terrifying hissing sound.

"She seems to be one of yours, Dumbledore," Wenda said lazily, a hint of sarcasm in her expression beneath her black slanted hat.

"The Blood Curse is deeply ingrained in her body. All I can do is try my best to ensure that her offspring will not inherit this disease." The old headmaster sighed, his thoughts drifting back to fifty years ago.

After he said this to Nagini.

The latter was taken aback at first, then his eyes revealed endless sorrow.

Gradually, even the sorrow faded, leaving only numbness. (By this time, Credence had already died.)

The next day, Nagini left Hogwarts.

For the next fifty years, he never met the girl whose brows were filled with sorrow again.

Having broken free from the painful memories, Dumbledore slowly reached out his hand.

Then, specks of golden light fell and landed on Nagini.

Then, the snake, which was visible to the naked eye, became less ferocious and more sleepy.

A few seconds later, its raised body sank down.

Nagini fell asleep.

"So Gale sent you here."

"Don't call him that, Dumbledore." Vanda's face showed deep disgust. "You disgust me!"

"Hoo!" Black Rose took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm the anger in her heart.

"Are you speaking to me so calmly because you feel guilty for personally imprisoning him for over forty years?"

Her cold, beautiful gaze was filled with anger and resentment. "How could the great Grindelwald lose? You betrayed him."

Fifty years had not erased her hatred for the man in front of her.

Instead, it allowed the pent-up hatred to brew into a wine, making it even richer and more potent.

"As for the purpose."

He believed that Hogwarts might contain something of Voldemort's, something that could make his soul immortal.

"Hornets?"

"You know?" Wenda was slightly taken aback, but then understood. As a wizard who could rival Grindelwald, Dumbledore knowing about Horcruxes was no big deal.

"Furthermore—" The haughty French Black Rose turned gracefully, stood up, and paced around the room, "that boy named Owen is also my target."

"Him?" The old principal's expression changed slightly, and a sharp light appeared in his eyes.

"Sanchez is just a fake surname." She surveyed the office layout, her anger and sarcasm vanishing, replaced by her usual haughty elegance.

But there seemed to be something else in his eyes, a look of evasion.

This was clearly seen by Dumbledore.

"If he had a surname, it would probably be—Rozier, Irving Rozier."

"Is he your descendant?" Dumbledore blurted out.

Then he received Wenda's look, as if she were an idiot.

My heart belongs to someone else.

She said it coldly, her tone as if she were about to devour Dumbledore's life with a single bite.

"I cannot say much about his background, but—"

"I don't understand what Grindelwald was thinking. If it were me, I would have killed that child the moment he was born."

"What do you mean?" The old principal's tone became colder.

He looked at the woman before him, his gaze behind his half-moon spectacles unable to penetrate her thoughts. She seemed...

Brain shut-off surgery?

"That's a monster."

If you had seen him as a child, you would know that a terrifying, manipulative 'thing' that can control people's minds at will and turn them into puppets, often lacking a human form, can never be called 'human.'

"Obscurial?" Upon hearing Wenda's description, Dumbledore immediately thought of a terrifying creature that was not humanoid and originated from the bodies of young wizards.

Has Gellert found another Silent One?

No—in just a second, Professor Dumbledore overturned his own guess.

Irving is healthy; he doesn't have any of the aura of being silent.

"No—that's not it." Dumbledore was quite certain; decades ago, Credence had given him a far greater understanding of the Obscurians than that of ordinary wizards.

If Irving were an Obscurial, he would recognize him at first glance.

Besides—given that child's flamboyant nature and unreliable ideas, it's impossible for him to be born as Momo Ran.

Faced with the professor's questioning gaze, Wenda seemed to be caught in a state of confusion, hesitation, and fear.

This made Dumbledore even more interested in the mystery surrounding Owen's origins.

The Rozier family, as the oldest pure-blood wizarding family, does not have many branches.

Besides the British lineage, only the French lineage, specifically the Vanda branch, remains.

If Irving is a member of the Rozier family, then it's impossible for him not to have some connection with the woman in front of him.

Unless—the old headmaster suddenly remembered Grindelwald's notes and the letter Newt sent him after Christmas.

"Gellert, what on earth is he doing?"

Let's go! Take off!

(End of this chapter)