I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 143 I'm back, old men

A boy with an embarrassed look in his eyes jumped up from the bed and was about to put his yo-yo on his foot.

Honestly, although our great black demon king Ou is all-powerful and sweeps across the eight wastelands, and wherever he goes, he incurs the wrath of both gods and men, even slapping dogs that pass by on the curb.

but!

But!

The Great Demon King III, still coughing, those who know, know.

His audacity was just a facade; otherwise, how could he have escaped so easily?

"Stop!!!" Hermione shouted again. It was the busiest time of the day for the hotel, dinnertime, and the corridors were probably crowded with people.

Owen then left her room.

If someone sees her, if her parents see her, then even jumping into the Atlantic Ocean wouldn't be enough to explain it.

"Um—what do you want? What else do you want?"

"How about I give you the book for free? It's a handwritten copy, magical text, a manuscript imbued with magic. You think it's homework? Just something to write casually? Ten Galleons isn't expensive at all."

Hermione was furious at Owen's continued rambling.

What kind of expression was that? What kind of look was that? What kind of tone was that?

You were the one who suddenly barged into my room, but you're making it sound like it's my fault!

Hermione's lips twitched slightly, her pearly teeth gently biting her bright red lips: "Shut up! Stay here and don't move!"

Hermione, who rarely stood up for herself in front of Owen, lashed out sternly.

Brown eyes glared fiercely at this annoying guy.

Then, clutching her bath towel and with her bare, wet feet, she cautiously walked past him.

The air was filled with the rich scent of roses.

Don't ask Irving how he knows.

Hermione's wet, smooth hair glanced at him as she passed by, perhaps as a way of warning him again.

In the instant she turned her head, she splashed shampoo all over his face.

The little witch skillfully opened the door, popped her head out, glanced around to make sure no one was there, and then closed the door again.

"Alright, you can go now." She stood in the corner, looking away, her expression very stiff.

"Forehead"

Seeing Hermione's expressionless face, Owen felt a rare pang of unease, a stirring of conscience awakened by his homeland.

Damn!

Ultimately, he and Hermione didn't really have any grudges or resentments.

His previous attitude towards Hermione was largely based on his memories of Granger, the Dark Phoenix who sabotaged his plans in the first playthrough.

It's absolutely hateful.

So much so that many times when Irving was dealing with this thirteen-year-old girl, he couldn't help but imagine wanting to see her get the short end of the stick.

But this time, he probably won't be her enemy again.

It's not good to keep putting down a young girl like this!

You have to give them something sweet!

For a sinecure in the Ministry of Magic in the future, for a permanent position for the rest of my life!

With a determined look on his face, Owen declared, "Alright, Miss Granger, to make up for my mistake, I've decided to take you to Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry tonight, how about that?"

"Beauxbatons?" Hermione's eyes lit up, but she quickly hid them.

"Why are you taking me there? I've heard that magic schools in various countries are hidden by spells, you—"

"You don't need to worry about that." Pointing his wand at Hermione, Owen slowly chanted a transfiguration spell.

In an instant, as if clouds and mist were churning, the bath towel on her body quickly transformed, and before long, a sparkling high-class dress was on her body.

He even styled her hair while he was at it.

Magic controlled the water droplets to flow from Hermione's hair, and soon her beautiful, fluffy hair was slightly straightened, then the strands curled into a single ponytail on their own.

"What is this?!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise, quickly covering her chest—but the neckline of the dress was quite high, so the scene that everyone was hoping for didn't happen.

"The latest designs from Paris Fashion Week this month! Haven't you seen all those GG signs everywhere?" Owen pointed to the huge GG signs outside the window, which were already lit up with neon lights.

Hearing the sound, Hermione turned around and, sure enough, there was a huge "GG" sign standing on the roadside not far from the hotel. A busty, tall woman was striking a seductive pose, wearing the same outfit that Hermione was wearing.

Well—there are differences too. For example, the chest area of ​​that dress isn't as high, the hem isn't as low, and it exposes the navel and back.

"Let's go, let's go!" Owen interrupted the girl's thoughts, saying impatiently, "We can't even make it to dinner at this hour!"

With that, he grabbed Hermione's hand, pushed open the door, and ran out.

As he ran, a parchment flew out of his pocket. Sirocco, who was following, ducked to avoid it and then jumped into Hermione's arms, while the parchment landed on the doorknob.

The words, imbued with magic, flashed with golden light as each character emerged, eventually forming a complete sentence: "Miss Granger and I have gone to visit the French magic school, Bübstein. Please don't worry, she will be fine. Your daughter's fourth best friend, Owen Sanchezliu."

I wonder what the Grangers will feel when they see this letter, but they must be angry and sleepless tonight.

In the darkness, Owen, holding a compass, wandered aimlessly through the streets of Paris.

They walked through the streets of Montmartre, winding and hidden in the legendary hills of the northern part of the city, Montmartre-Royce, a place brimming with artistic atmosphere.

Tourists flock to the pubs and upscale shops along the street, visiting this century-old establishment.

Owen wanted to try an exotic cocktail, but Hermione stopped him, as the little witch strictly enforced the rule against minors drinking alcohol.

Then, amidst the joking and teasing of the old Parisians, the little witch's cheeks flushed instantly, and she lowered her head, refusing to say another word.

They were simply blindly led by Irving.

Hmm—why is this child still afraid of strangers?

Unlike Hermione, the reserved and shy Owen cheerfully flashed a peace sign and swaggered past a group of elderly Parisians.

Then, amidst a chorus of middle finger blessings, Irving grinned and happily walked down the old street.

Whoops!

The old Parisians are so warm and welcoming!

As the number of tourists around him gradually decreased, after passing the last shop with its lights on, Owen finally found the familiar door in a secluded, damp, and narrow corridor.

"This is it!" His eyes lit up, and he grabbed Hermione and rushed over quickly.

Pushing open the door, the room was dimly lit by candlelight.

The two elders seemed to still be sitting in their chairs, talking about something.

The atmosphere inside the room was quite heavy, as if it were a moment of dictating last words before a life-or-death separation.

"I'm back, old men!" A crisp, high-pitched, joyful voice, like a sharp sword slicing through the darkness, shattered the atmosphere in the room into fragments.

Owen took Hermione's hand and pulled her inside.

Standing at the door, he closed it again.

Then an eagle leaped up, its right hand setting the clock hands to Beauxbatons' position, before reopening the door. "I'm off again, old men!"

"Um, professors~ hello~ sigh~~~" Hermione was pulled away by Owen before she could finish speaking.

The sudden intrusion of the two startled the old headmaster and Nicolas Flamel.

After seeing Owen pull Hermione away and run out again, the gloom in the room seemed to vanish.

The two elderly people looked at each other and both noticed that the other had breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's what youth is all about!" the old principal remarked.

The melancholy in my heart dissipated by more than half.

"Perhaps there are other ways." He suddenly thought of Harry, the boy who escaped the Killing Curse.

If there's a way to break the Killing Curse, then what difficulty is insurmountable?

The old headmaster, now radiant with renewed energy, suddenly stood up. He had been watching Harry closely; he knew that even greater magic existed in this world.

That is love.

The magic of love is beyond imagination; its effects and scope of application are difficult to grasp, yet it truly exists.

A young life should not end like this, and he was willing to give up more for it, including his own life.

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.

The mere passing of life brought renewed hope to the two elderly men in their twilight years.

Meanwhile, the instigator, Irving, has already gone to another place.

Behind the door, Hermione's eyes revealed a hint of resentment. Although Owen didn't say it, she could guess that the gaunt old man sitting with Dumbledore in the room was none other than Nicolas Flamel, the legendary alchemist who had lived for over six hundred years and was considered the greatest alchemist in the world.

I have just missed the opportunity to speak with that gentleman.

It's all Kyrie's fault. He was already inside, so why did he have to go out again?

"Hey! Why are you doing this?"

Before he could finish speaking...

The mountain wind suddenly blew and blinded her.

The air was suddenly filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers.

Hermione forced her eyes open.

They were walking out of a golden gate and strolling down a marble corridor lined with roses of various colors.

In the distance, a magical fountain sprays mist into the sky, and a rainbow stretches out from one end of the corridor, extending into the magnificent main gate of the manor in the distance.

Flowers are everywhere.

Purple, blue, red—alluring colors.

The little witch was so surprised by the sudden change before her eyes that she couldn't speak.

The moonlight is like a fine wine that has been brewed for decades; its mere presence is enough to intoxicate.

Petals danced in the mountain breeze, tracing elegant lines in the air before slowly gathering to form the emblem of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Then the cycle repeated itself.

The little witch's cheeks were flushed as if she were drunk, and her brown eyes remained fixed on the boy in front of her.

He seemed to possess Veela-like blood, exuding a fatal attraction that would inevitably cause any man or woman who spent a long time with him to fall for him.

The two crossed the Rose Bridge and, guided by the magical rainbow, entered the largest manor.

The auditorium in Beauxbatons.

At this moment, thousands of candles emitting golden light floated in the air of the glittering auditorium.

The flames suddenly flickered.

The remaining few dozen young wizards glanced sideways and saw the demon from the abyss of hell leading a very beautiful little witch in.

Now they hated it even more.

"Wow, we made it! Come on in, make yourself at home. The Parisians are the most hospitable." Owen called out to Hermione and sat her down at a round table in the Great Hall.

(End of this chapter)