I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 133 Set aside the urge to persuade, and respect their fate of death.

"Hufflepuff, I'm from Hufflepuff House," Owen said proudly, hands on his hips and head held high.

"Our Professor Sprout often says I am the best Hufflepuff of the last century."

"What?!" Sirius stared at Owen, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. "You're from Hufflepuff?"

Sirius's reaction to this answer was even more shocking than when he had just witnessed a junior wizard commit murder.

Then he asked the question that many people had asked: "Did the Sorting Hat go senile and break down?"

"Yes, after all, it has been used for more than a thousand years, so there is absolutely no problem with its authenticity."

"Really? You're not lying to me?" Sirius gradually suppressed his surprise. He probably wouldn't give much trust to a little wizard who could kill without mercy.

Who knows if anything the boy said was true?

Or perhaps, this isn't a boy at all, but rather some evil wizard who drank a compound potion containing the hair of some unfortunate child?

Suddenly his pupils contracted, and he became even more convinced of this idea.

I've never heard of a thirteen or fourteen-year-old having such evil thoughts. The Killing Curse isn't something you can just cast by waving a wand and chanting a few spells.

"Why would I lie to you? There's no benefit in it at all. I really am a student of Hufflepuff House, a student of Ms. Helga. If you don't believe me, you can ask Professor Dumbledore later!"

"Dumbledore? He'll be here?"

"Right away!" Irving said confidently.

"Judging by the time, he should be here soon. If Aubrey is quick enough, he would have arrived half an hour ago." Owen raised his left wrist, which was hovering over the watch, to check the time. "Before that, shall we talk?"

"What do you want to talk about?" Sirius had no liking for this devil in the guise of a child. If he weren't locked in a cage, he would have even wanted to go out and fight Owen.

"About my grandmother—cough cough! Professor Dumbledore—well, I'm just a good boy who's occasionally mischievous, so please keep today's events a secret, Mr. Sirius."

"Keep it a secret?" Sirius's face instantly turned cold. Keep it a secret—keep it a secret!

The word he hated most in his life was secrecy, if it weren't for him, if it weren't for him recommending that traitor to become James's new Secretkeeper.

How could he be dead! How could he be!

"There are so many people here—"

"Forget everything!" Owen raised his wand, and powerful magic instantly surged into the tip of the wand. Then, strands of gray silk floated out from the tip of the wand.

The silk, like a giant curtain, slowly flew into several cells in the corridor, covering the faces of the Death Eaters amidst their struggles, blank stares, and resignation.

Then Owen gently waved his wand, and the silk suddenly tightened, as if covering their faces and making it impossible to breathe. After a short period of suffocation, the silk seemed to have entered their brains, and everyone's memories were covered up.

"You—" Sirius's nerves were numb from the shock of the child in front of him.

Even he couldn't cast such a wide-ranging Oblivion Spell, or rather, he wasn't suited to controlling this kind of delicate spell.

Perhaps—in Sirius's memory—only Dumbledore possessed such extraordinary abilities.

"It's just a simple memory cover-up, a petty trick." The little devil said nonchalantly, spreading his hands. "At most, it will only cover it up for a few days. Besides, if I take all their memories away, what's the point of the intimidation I just did?"

"As long as we don't give ourselves away, it's fine. Anyway, Old Deng won't care about the reaction of a few Death Eaters."

"It's mainly you, Mr. Sirius."

Upon hearing this, Sirius replied coldly, "Me? How am I any different from them?"

"No, it's very different. You're about to leave."

"go out?"

"That's right," Owen replied with a smile. "Let's not worry about how you'll get out now. Just promise me you'll keep this a secret."

"Of course, as a bad (pfft) good guy, I have to threaten him a little every day, otherwise it just feels like something's missing. Hmm—" Owen rested his chin on his hand, looking at the sallow-faced, thin, and dull-eyed man in front of him, yet still handsome, and after a moment of 'hmm,' said, "You are not afraid of death, nor are you interested in wealth and power, but I know one of your fatal weaknesses, Mr. Sirius."

"Oh! Is that so?" Sirius Black looked disdainful upon hearing this. He wasn't even afraid of death, so what else did he care about?

"Um—you might not know this, but Owen gave a mysterious smile, "Actually, Harry and I are best friends."

"I've saved his life many times. Take first grade, for example—if it weren't for my extraordinary solo battle against Voldemort, he might have been meeting his father long ago."

"Oh—and second year too. I burned hundreds of giant spiders to death with a single Fiendfyre, and then saved his life. Sigh—every time I save someone, it takes a huge toll on my energy. No wonder I feel a bit cold." In the damp, chilly corridor, Owen rubbed his legs together. "Ugh, I'm exhausted! I need to replenish my strength, but I'm a poor man. My mother always told me that poor children mature early, so I only charge because I have no other choice. How about this, Harry? I won't search your little stash. You must have plenty of money. I don't need much, just ten thousand Galleons a time."

"Or you could pay several times to prevent any unforeseen circumstances in the future. Let me put it this way: Harry's luck is terrible; he'll definitely be in mortal danger again in his third year. And then, I—"

Irving continued rambling, but Sirius's expression grew increasingly cold.

He could easily sense the threat in the boy's words.

What rubbish about saving Harry several times? He preferred to believe that Snape had reformed.

Especially when Owen mentioned that Harry's life was still in danger in his third year.

Sirius Black finally couldn't hold back any longer. Overwhelmed with anger, he squeezed out the last bit of strength from his body and rushed madly toward the iron cage, reaching out his hands to strangle this menace.

"Hey~ What are you doing~"

"Do the Black family members all like to strangle people? Don't they know that humans have resistance to strangulation? You can't die from strangulation."

"I'm warning you, if you dare touch a single hair on Harry's head, I'll chop you into mincemeat!"

Sirius, whose spore-pinching attack was skillfully dodged by Owen, roared madly.

"???"

"Damn! Another one who won't believe the truth. I haven't done anything heinous! Why don't any of you believe that I'm actually a kind, reserved, socially awkward, and not very talkative person?" Owen rubbed his head, looking quite annoyed.

His face was full of helplessness.

His eyes, however, betrayed a hint of disdain as he looked at Sirius: "It's just a few killing curses, killing a few mortals, is it really necessary to react so strongly?"

"Could it be—Black? The Knight Family—hmm—you want to be Monster?"

"What are you talking about?" Sirius's vigilance towards Owen was at its highest, even surpassing that of Voldemort at this moment.

He couldn't imagine how Hogwarts could produce such a young wizard.

Has Grindelwald been leading Hogwarts for the past ten years or so?

"If you and your companions had been ruthless in killing these scoundrels from the beginning, perhaps Harry's fate wouldn't have changed much, but you could at least have saved the Longbottoms."

"Longbottom? What happened to him?" Upon hearing this, Sirius suddenly felt a sense of foreboding.

That night, he was the first to arrive at the Potter family's ancestral home. After seeing James lying in a pool of blood, he went mad and went straight to hunt down Peter Pettigrew. He was then captured and imprisoned in Azkaban.

He had no idea that Bella and her men had raided the Longbottoms; he was already in prison at the time.

But the Death Eaters wouldn't tell him these things.

"It's nothing." Owen waved his hand casually, but his tone was inexplicably cold. "It's just that your older sister led a few people to raid the Longbottoms and used the Cruciatus Curse to drive them both insane. See? It's not a big deal!"

Irving's slightly mocking tone reignited Sirius's anger. His mind felt like it was about to explode. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at the boy in front of him, then his gaze shifted to the other cage, to the one containing his loved one.

Within the Order of the Phoenix, although he had the best relationship with James Lupin, he was also teammates with the others, all of whom were friends who had gone through life and death together.

He even remembered a time when his arrogance led him into a trap set by some Death Eaters, and it was the Lombards who came to his rescue.

"Look at you, aren't you gritting your teeth in regret? Where were you before?"

"Or, if you had been a little more clear-headed when you went to kill the rat in the street, you could have notified the other members of the Order of the Phoenix. Perhaps that rat wouldn't have survived, and you would have had the ability to save those friends, relatives, and comrades who died in the chaotic years after Voldemort's downfall."

Irving, arms crossed, retorted sharply, "You're hiding in Azkaban? Living a life of inner torment, thinking you're atoning for your sins?"

"We can never make up for the mistakes we've made, and once we've lost something, we can never get it back."

"So what's the point of wasting your life here wallowing in self-pity?"

He said a lot, but unfortunately the dog in front of him didn't pay much attention to what he said after hearing that the rat was still alive.

"Fine! All that talk for nothing, a complete waste of breath."

Looking at Sirius's reddened eyes, he knew he had wasted his energy again.

"What are you talking about! Peter Pettigrew, that traitor, he's still alive?" The big dog's brain seemed to only be able to hold this much. Perhaps it was because he had been squatting in this perpetually dark prison road, his head was like a withered tree, unable to think much more.

He glared fiercely at Owen and roared in the heaviest possible tone, "He's still alive? He's still alive!"

"Tell me where he is? Where is he!"

(End of this chapter)