I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 147, all of you, go all out!

Even the flowers that had lost their roots and the soil to survive were replanted one by one.

They all came back to life.

The sight of the Milky Way seemingly reversed lasted for a good ten seconds. When the last stone returned to its homeland, the flowerbed returned to its original state, as if nothing had ever happened.

Before the young wizards could react, a voice, a voice they knew all too well, was howling and destroying the magnificent scenery.

"Hey hey hey~~~ Why am I regressing too?"

That's right, just now, during that breathtaking spectacle of the galaxy turning upside down, Irving was fortunate enough to be one of the participants.

He followed the mud beneath his feet, and his body flew uncontrollably forward.

"Wait a minute!!!" he shouted.

Before he could escape, many plant vines suddenly sprouted from the ground.

They wrapped his arms and little feet up.

Under the moonlit night, a small, dark-skinned boy had his hands bound, and a sturdy tree grew out of his back.

It is more than twenty feet tall.

A vine deftly threaded through his bound hands and then hoisted him high into the air.

"What are you doing!" Owen kicked the tree trunk repeatedly, trying to break free of the ropes binding him, but to little avail.

"I am innocent! They provoked me first! I was just defending myself! I want to appeal! I want to!" Owen, hanging from the tree, continued to kick his legs and shout loudly. But before he could say more, several thick, black vines suddenly attacked from all directions and wrapped around his mouth.

"Waaaaah~" This time, he really couldn't speak, only whimpering sounds remained.

Without his mouth, the Great Demon King Ou's fighting power dropped by 90%, and he was now like a moth caught in a spider web.

"I don't think dinner is over yet!" Professor Dumbledore smiled and winked at Hermione, then led her back into the Great Hall as if urging her on.

That night, a tree appeared outside Beauxbatons' courtyard.

Under the moonlight!

The little black boy was hanging from a tree, enjoying a rare moonlight bath.

In the latter half of the night, the vines that had been sealing 90% of his combat power began to loosen.

Then—with the mindset that I'm unhappy and I'll make you all even more unhappy.

Irving sang "Heroes' Song," "Where is the Road Ahead," "In Vain I Frown," and "The Mighty Yangtze Flows Eastward" for over an hour at the top of his lungs.

Then, perhaps fearing that these little brats wouldn't understand Chinese, he immediately changed the playlist.

——Debout——les——damnés——de——la——terre.

With a low, hushed voice, witnessed by the moonlight, Owen presented all the young wizards at Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a battle hymn from the old revolutionary district of Paris.

At daybreak, Irving climbed down the tree.

He slept very soundly last night.

Little Blackie clearly remembered that he had been playing music all night, so how did he inexplicably fall asleep halfway through?

After two hours, Irving finally found the magic wand buried deep in the ground under a rose bush.

Holding the magic wand, feeling the amplification from the dark power, wahaha, the Demon King has returned to his peak.

Where's Dumbledore?

Dumbledore is here!

If he doesn't give himself an explanation!

I'll make him lose his grandson!

Owen, fuming, went into the manor.

All the young wizards who came towards him deliberately avoided him. But compared to the fear and arrogance on the faces of those guys before him.

Now they feel more awe than anything else.

If they could still resist angrily when Owen single-handedly overpowered the young wizard Beauxbatons, their resistance suddenly became meaningless when they discovered that there was another young wizard from Hogwarts who was just as strong.

They knew that the gap between them and the boy was not the gap between them, but the gap between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons.

Even if they can beat Irving, so what?

If second- or third-year wizards at Hogwarts can defeat fifth- or sixth-year wizards, what about the older students?

—Dumbledore!!!

The young wizard Beauxbatons couldn't help but silently recite the name in his heart; he truly deserved to be called the greatest wizard in the world.

His students are incredibly talented!!!

This is utterly hopeless!!!

"Tch, so you've lost your spirit?" After circling around a large group without anyone causing trouble, Irving felt bored.

Those brutes from Gryffindor, or those idiots from Ravenclaw, are much funnier.

It's interesting to see people relentlessly provoking him, oblivious to the pain.

Rubbing his arm, Irving hurriedly ended his tour as he rushed to the auditorium for breakfast, ready to find Nick.

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.

Old Deng certainly wouldn't hang him on the tree all night, unless he wanted to amputate Irving's leg.

He was supported by tree branches.

Irving naturally understood the old principal's intentions; after all, it was someone else's territory, so he still had to put on a show.

Later, at Nicolas Flamel's suggestion, he and Hermione happily moved into this great institution of learning, which rivaled Hogwarts.

Time flows by bit by bit.

July passed quietly.

These days, although everyone is in France, news of magic from across the ocean in England continues to pour in.

The most noteworthy of these is Sirius's escape from prison.

Of course, this applies to others. For Irving, it's nothing special; he had expected it all along.

This was all his doing.

Even the calmest days need a few ripples, don't they?

Besides, he had his own purposes.

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.

In the days that followed, Irving lived a peaceful life, spending his days learning alchemy from Nicolas Flamel.

Of course, that wasn't his interest.

Alchemy and such are too time-consuming, and his talent for alchemy isn't particularly outstanding. Owen feels that he's already doing well if he can barely maintain his talent in magic.

He can't be a jack-of-all-trades, and Irving knows that perfectly well.

But even though it was tedious, he never said he didn't want to continue learning alchemy. After all, at six hundred years old, he was probably the longest-living wizard on the planet.

Besides his exceptional skill in alchemy, Nicolas Flamel also possessed other talents.

He has also achieved great success in other areas, such as spells, potions, herbs, the history of magic, runes, and ancient magic.

It's been six hundred years, after all!

Over a long period of time, even though Nick had not actively explored these aspects of magical knowledge, his experience as a professor in Beauxbatons for hundreds of years meant that knowledge would inevitably flow to him.

What Owen values ​​most is knowledge about ancient magic.

To be precise, it's about spellcasting skills. His young body is too burdened to wield ancient magic. Perhaps Nick knows how to reduce that burden.

"alright."

Beauxbatons' classrooms are decorated in a completely different way from Hogwarts.

On the second floor, there is a large circular classroom with a stepped layout.

The entire wall and the few remaining pillars are made of pure white marble. The round, table-shaped podium descends in layers, like a stage, and the students' seats are all on top of it.

At first, Irving was worried that sitting in such a deep, pit-like classroom, which was too high and too far away, might make it difficult to see. But then he saw Nick wave his hand, and the entire classroom began to rotate like a compass, then magnify as a whole.

All layers can rise and fall.

Including lectures at the center.

Professors will adjust the size and layout of the classrooms depending on the course and the number of students.

At that moment, Irving knelt down in front of the astonishing classroom!

As expected of the magic school where Nicolas Flamel studied, it was filled with miracles created by alchemy.

"This is roughly the entire catalog of ancient magic. You can take my warrant to the library in Beauxbatons to find what you need."

On the round table, Nick smiled and handed a thick manuscript to Irving.

Then, under the other person's delighted gaze, she watched him leave.

"This child—" A faint sadness lingered on Le Maire's aged face.

He was not only saddened by his impending death, but also disappointed that he could not find an heir.

Irving is indeed exceptionally talented, perhaps even excessively so. His talent is unparalleled, far exceeding Albus's expectations.

In his six hundred years, apart from that boy who also came from Hogwarts one hundred and fifty years ago, he had never seen a child with more magical talent than Owen.

"No—" This child is even stronger than that child!

If his life had continued, his achievements would have been immeasurable.

Nick wanted to pass on his alchemy skills, along with magical secrets that were beyond the reach of ordinary people, to Owen, but the boy had other ideas.

Oh well!

Nick sighed softly. Alchemy requires years of accumulated experiments. How could he bear to let a child, whose life is as fleeting as fireworks, spend all his time in the laboratory during the most beautiful years of his life?

"Let nature take its course~" Nick, who had truly begun to study the secrets of Owen's bloodline, slowly dragged his sun-like body and gradually disappeared into the corridor outside the classroom.

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.

Madam Maxim was reluctant to open the library to the young wizards of Hogwarts, but because a large portion of Beauxbatons' library contained gifts from Nick, she couldn't find a pretext to stop it.

—At dawn, sunlight streams through the colorful mosaic glass, leaving mottled, aged marks on the ancient stone pillars and arches of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, adorned with murals depicting Joan of Arc's salvation story.

At the very edge of the mellow, fragrant place, a handsome young man sat upright at an exquisite long table.

He was dressed in a black wizard's robe, exuding an indescribable aura, sitting there calmly, elegantly, and quietly like a blooming French rose.

The boy frowned slightly, concentrating on the parchment scroll in front of him.

He was about twelve or thirteen years old, with delicate and handsome features.

His jet-black hair was soft and slightly wavy, his gaze was somewhat unfocused, and his gray eyes revealed a fleeting shrewdness. With his high nose and full lips, he seemed to be Merlin's most perfect creation, every feature of his face meticulously sculpted by a master magician.

Only the occasional upturn of his lips revealed a hint of his childlike innocence.

"Damn it, I'm already in Blumbuston and I still have to copy books!"

"Copying books, copying books, am I some kind of automaton book editor?"

"I shouldn't have told Dumbledore that I had Nicholas Flamel's warrant!"

Irving has maintained this posture for a long time, with old books and piles of manuscripts around him.

The copying of books that Old Deng asked for was not as simple as just dipping your brush in ink and writing a character.

He had to use an ancient method to incorporate ancient magic runes into the text; only then would his manuscript become a book imbued with magic.

Like those profound magic books in the forbidden book section.

That's why Irving hates this so much, because it's simply exploitation, the old principal exploiting himself!

He just wanted to move the library from Burbuston back to Hogwarts, and he was the poor mover in charge!

However, he wasn't the only one doing the arduous work of moving things.

Right across from Irving.

Hermione, dressed in a white dress, was also drafted.

However, unlike Irving, who could write a single word to thoroughly condemn Deng Xiaoping's and Zhou Bapi's true nature.

Hermione clearly didn't see this arduous journey of copying books as suffering; on the contrary, she was very happy, her eyes shining with a greedy light for knowledge.

Owen was surprised to discover at some point that Hermione could write with both hands, and was even copying different books.

She typed away like a tentacle monster, her fingers flying across the keyboard at lightning speed, without even lifting her head. What's worse, she often maintained this speed and posture for hours on end.

Like a little monster.

Do you think having a pretty girl sitting next to you copying books together will make you happy?

Ha! What a load of rubbish!

That guy named Granger is definitely a total scab! He's working for Dumbledore without even realizing it, and he's driving me crazy with competition.

Although she was merely copying with a little ink, it still provoked Irving's strong dissatisfaction. Unable to manage his own life due to the pressures of the situation, he often had to leave the library and go outside to clear his head.

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.

"Enough, Fleur. Wandless spellcasting is the highest level of spellcasting technique for wizards; failure is inevitable. You need to train with a balance of intensity and relaxation, not just force yourself!"

In the private training room of Madam Maxim, the headmistress of the largest manor at Burbuston School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hibiscus, known as the Fairy of the Lake, was panting heavily and slumped on the floor in a very ungraceful posture.

Her shoulders trembled slightly, her forehead was covered in sweat, her mental energy was severely scattered, and there was no sparkle in her eyes!

"No! You don't understand, Professor!" Hearing Mrs. Maxim's admonition, Fleur's strong spirit and resolute gaze shone through. "I have brought shame upon Beauxbatons, and I must wash it away myself!"

She stubbornly raised her head.

The unwavering radiance that had never appeared on Hibiscus made Mrs. Maxim very gratified.

On the other hand, she was deeply impressed by the two students from Hogwarts.

One's strength is unfathomable, and at such a young age, one can use advanced techniques like casting spells without a staff.

Mrs. Maxim, who was completely baffled, even went to Dumbledore to ask him how to teach students.

But each time, the old principal would just give a somewhat unnatural, humble smile and quickly steer the conversation elsewhere.

Mrs. Maxim knew that this might be a Hogwarts secret, and Dumbledore wouldn't easily tell her about an outsider—or even an enemy, in other words.

But in reality, the reason Dumbledore didn't reveal his so-called teaching techniques to Mrs. Maxim was simply because he was ashamed!

How can the old principal possibly open his mouth?

Hmm—why are the young wizards at Hogwarts so amazing?

A—Oh! That's because at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey is probably the busiest staff member every day. For her, a year with fewer than three young wizards carried into the infirmary is a good year.

How could Dumbledore say such a thing!

"I understand, but some things can't be forced. Besides, your mental strength has reached its limit. Forcing yourself to study will only be harmful. Hmm—go back and rest." Madam Maxim used magic to clean all the stains off Fleur's body.

He then helped her up, said a few more words of advice, and saw her out of the training room.

Join group: 577156302, so embarrassing! Is nobody here? (Answer to group question: Grandpa's Treasure)

(End of this chapter)