I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 144 Is this Beauxbatons?

On the table in Beauxbatons' Great Hall, a variety of French delicacies were already laid out. Without any hesitation, Owen grabbed a piece of an unknown, ornate cake and put it in his mouth, just like he did at Hogwarts.

Hermione didn't know why Irving was so calm.

She sat upright in the chair, her round eyes constantly scanning her surroundings.

It's not just the lavish decor of this auditorium.

She was also observing the wizards of Beauxbatons.

The moment Hermione stepped into the magnificent hall, the hazy beauty of the journey vanished instantly.

All eyes were fixed on her from all directions, those malicious gazes making Hermione feel like she was sitting on pins and needles, like she had thorns in her back, like she had a fishbone stuck in her throat.

This reminded her of a few months ago, when the four houses were at their most tense. Once again, she got up early to have breakfast in the Great Hall. That day, there was no one at the Gryffindor long table, while there were more than a dozen third and fourth-year wizards sitting on the Slytherin side.

They were looking at me with that same expression back then.

Hmm—and then what?

later

She later taught those guys a lesson, and after that, no Slytherin wizards below the fourth year bothered her anymore.

"Eat up! It'll get cold if you don't eat now!" Owen continued to urge her, but Hermione remained seated, motionless.

Eat, eat, eat my ass! Eat!

Didn't you see the way the little wizard in Beauxbatons looked at you, as if he wanted to eat you alive?

How can this guy be so carefree?

It's in other schools, after all, which is different from Hogwarts.

"Hey! You're not welcome here!" Just as Hermione was feeling like she was in prison, a stern voice suddenly rang out behind her. (French)

It was a boy, a tall and handsome boy with light blond hair that clung to his ears. His eyes were haughty.

More importantly, his magic robe was slightly different from the other young wizards' robes; the blue robe was trimmed with gold.

He looks like a class monitor or student council president.

"Um..." Hermione was about to get up to explain.

But Irving's voice came through: "Buffalo Barton, is it your family's property? You think you can just leave because you don't want me? Who do you think you are?"

"I'm the president of the male student council." The boy looked at Owen with a gloomy face and cold eyes.

He wasn't present when Owen caused a ruckus in Beauxbatons last time; he was in the library preparing for the Ministry of Magic's Auror exams in the second half of the year.

He had only heard about that battle secondhand, and had not experienced it firsthand, so his attitude towards Irving was only somewhat wary, not fearful.

Of course, there's another reason why he hates Irving, which I'm sure everyone can guess.

And now, there's one more.

Because when Hermione was about to get up to explain, he was able to notice the stunningly beautiful girl beside him.

She wore a pale purple dress that resembled lilac blossoms, with a white veil draped around her swan-like neck. Her beautiful long brown hair was styled into a ponytail, and a few strands of hair fell between her brows, revealing a pair of clear brown eyes that sparkled like stars.

The girl had a reserved smile on her face. Although she wasn't as beautiful as Furong, she was still comparable to her.

"Um, what gives you the right, Beauxbatons student council president, to tell my Hogwarts wizards what to do? Besides, I'm a guest of your headmaster."

Irving buried his head in his food and ate a mouthful, then waited for a long time without receiving a reply.

"Um?"

He looked up in confusion, then glanced at the student council president again.

In an instant, countless schemes emerged from the depths of his sinister heart.

As expected of Miss Granger, you are truly captivating!

"Snap out of it!" Owen snapped his fingers, staring at the paralyzed man who was completely captivated by Hermione's charm with a half-smile.

"The lions of Gryffindor are not to be trifled with by a nobody like you."

"?" Hermione's eyes narrowed, and her gaze toward Owen became dangerous.

You're insulting me, aren't you?

Although I don't understand French, you just called my name, didn't you?

You definitely didn't say anything nice!

You jerk!

"My advice is to look in the mirror and see if you're good enough for someone before you start pursuing them."

"What's it to you?" The boy didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with his lecherous gaze. For Parisians, romance is in their blood.

"It's none of my business, but to prevent you from getting beaten up, I'll still be friendly and tell you not to use your Bübuston methods on the young wizards at Hogwarts. We're not that 'tolerant'."

Kyrie Irving wasn't lying.

Amid the increasingly tense atmosphere among the four academies, any slight movement could trigger an academy war.

This includes absurd excuses like "a boy from your college glanced at a girl from our college."

Anyway, it's just about finding an excuse to fight; who cares what the excuse is?

"Enough!" the boy roared, then drew his wand from his waist and pointed it at Owen. "You're not allowed to insult Beauxbatons again. If you're a wizard, then let's see what we're really made of with our wands. Let me see what kind of abilities the wizards of Hogwarts have."

He chuckled coldly: "Dumbledore surely told you what a duel is!"

"Oh my, a wizard who's almost an adult is challenging a weak, pitiful, and helpless little Hogwarts wizard like me? Wow! You really have the nerve to say that."

"Hmph! I don't think someone who can defeat 'a dozen' fifth or sixth grade wizards is a weakling." The boy emphasized the words "a dozen," clearly expressing his skepticism about Owen's record.

"You—" Owen slowly stood up (realizing he wasn't tall enough)—oh—no—he slowly stood on the chair, looking down at the boy in front of him, "You're not qualified to fight me!"

"Hey, Sister Furong over there, aren't you going to do anything about this? Your school's student council president is bullying people!!! Hey! The wizard from Beauxbatons is bullying people!!!"

Irving let out a strange scream at the top of his lungs.

Hermione, who was with him, wanted to disappear into the ground.

Although she couldn't understand what Owen and the boy were saying—(in French)

However, she could guess what was going on from Owen's possessed behavior!

Oh God! Why, why did I have to come here and embarrass myself?! Why?!

On the other side of the auditorium, Fleur, whom Owen addressed by her first name, looked even more unwell. Her beautiful brows were furrowed, and she exuded an aura of melancholy.

But she never responded to Irving's shouts.

Perhaps it was because that student council president had been bothering her for too long, and she was planning to take this opportunity to see him get his comeuppance.

Irving thought to himself with a sinister glint in his eye.

"Enough! Enough!! Enough!!!" The dog, fiercely protective of its master, suddenly barked wildly, gripping its wand tightly, veins bulging on its forehead. "I command you to take out your wand, you pathetic Englishman!"

"Hey! I won't, come and beat me up if you dare! Also, your dad's French."

"What? You're French!" The boy was very surprised. For a moment, even the goddess's anger at being insulted paused.

"Old Paris Plain White Flag".

"Traitor!" This time, the boy was provoked again, and his fury was even greater than before. He stared at Owen's face and began to curse him with every French word he could muster.

Irving was not to be outdone, and his firepower was even stronger, with French, English and Chinese interspersed, and various insulting phrases about other people's mothers coming out of his mouth at will.

Soon a strange sight appeared in the auditorium.

In this magical sanctuary, two wizards, one holding a wand and the other stretching out a finger, one standing on the ground and the other on a chair, one looking up and the other looking down, are engaged in a frenzied oral gymnastics session.

The insult exchange lasted for several minutes, and gradually the sycophant's fighting power began to decline. His vocabulary was running out, while Irving had just used up a wave of French words, and his English and Chinese were still ready to go!

You little punk, you dare mess with me?

You're still too inexperienced!

"Ah~"

Enraged to the point of vomiting blood, the sycophant suddenly flew into a rage. He yelled, and a dark green light suddenly shone from the tip of his wand, accompanied by a whispered, mournful scream.

"Um?"

Irving was even faster than him.

Before he could finish his incantation, a sweeping kick landed squarely on his liver. Then, before the fool could retaliate, the demon king pounced and punched the fool's right hand, which was holding the wand.

"Crack!" A sound like bones breaking rang out.

"Ahhhhh!" Then came a scream that echoed throughout the auditorium.

Then, Irving used his waist and abdomen to spin around in place, and his right fist turned into a fist, slapping the stupid fool's left cheek with a powerful punch.

"The Killing Curse?" Hermione exclaimed in shock.

He quickly got up and began looking for his wand.

Then—embarrassingly, her outfit was created using Owen's Transfiguration, and the wand she had kept inside her coat was still in the hotel!

"No." Owen grabbed the idiot's bow tie from beneath him, pulled him up with his left hand, and waved him back and forth with his right.

The bastard's teeth flew everywhere from the beating.

"But it is also some kind of evil curse."

Honestly, Irving was a little angry.

Although he was incredibly arrogant, he never killed anyone when fighting among the young wizards. He rarely even used dark magic, and he never used ancient magic against the young wizards.

But this half-grown wizard, who was fifty or sixty years older than him, was actually using dark magic on him, and a rather cruel one at that. This was truly like provoking a tyrant; he was asking for trouble.

Immediately, he increased the pressure on his hand.

Until that idiot could take in more air than he could exhale.

Irving then stopped what he was doing.

Grabbing his neck with both hands, she threw him high into the air with a forceful movement.

A flying kick in mid-air, with considerable force.

That idiot smashed through three tables before finally stopping.

His whole body, with his head resting on his legs, was stuck in the last table in a kung fu position.

"Is this Beauxbatons?"

Irving's lips curled into a mocking smile.

He bent down, lowered his head, picked up the scattered gold tablecloth embroidered with the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic emblem from the ground, and said while wiping the blood from his hands.

He held his head high, his arrogant expression and cold eyes staring at everyone present.

(End of this chapter)