I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 166 Goodbye Hogwarts, I'm going back to the Ming Dynasty!

"Harry, bad news."

Just as Owen was about to give Harry Potter a good talking-to, Wood suddenly rushed over from under the clock tower.

"Professor McGonagall just informed me that our Quidditch opponent tomorrow has changed to the Hufflepuffs!"

"What? Not Slytherins?" Harry replied blankly.

"What? The Quidditch match is tomorrow?" Hermione exclaimed abruptly.

"What? Quidditch wasn't canceled this year?"

"Um?"

All three of them turned to look at Irving.

"What's wrong? There are so many Dementors in the sky they could eat people. The professor didn't even cancel the match. He's really carefree."

"I bet a Galon, there's bound to be trouble tomorrow!"

"And—" Owen turned to Wood, "What's wrong with Hufflepuff? Did they eat your rice or something? Why are you so upset?"

"Hmph—your team's Cedric also went to protest to Professor Spratly." Behind Wood, a group of Gryffindor Quidditch players arrived. They had changed into their team uniforms and looked like they were going to practice.

The twins moved closer, each putting an arm around Owen's neck, and said, "Slytherin is using the excuse that all the players have caught a cold to postpone the match. Obviously, that's just an excuse; they just don't want to play in this weather. The problem is, we've been training Slytherin for a whole month now."

Fred pointed to the dark, heavy clouds in the sky.

It's been pouring rain at Hogwarts for days.

Perhaps it was Owen's imagination, but ever since the Dementors entered the vicinity of the castle, the weather in the Scottish Highlands had become quite severe, with frequent storms and torrential rain.

This afternoon was a respite from the torrential rain and strong winds of the past few days.

Just as Fred was speaking, the faint sound of thunder and lightning could be heard in the sky.

It's obvious that tomorrow will definitely be a torrential downpour.

"You're the student council president, you should go and tell Headmaster Dumbledore about this!" George said.

"The old principal is incredibly busy; he doesn't have time for such trivial matters. Besides, did the professor agree to them changing the competition order so easily?"

—At this moment, Professor Dumbledore, who was passionately arguing with Tom, sneezed loudly.

"Snape agreed," Wood said coldly. "Professor McGonagall, you know, she never sides with us on these matters."

"No—I wasn't asking you, Ms. Meow. They're going to have a match with Hufflepuff. Didn't anyone ask Professor Sprout? Did she agree?"

"This—I didn't ask," Wood said blankly. Professor Sprout had always been rather unremarkable, compared to Professor Flitwick, who had shone brightly last semester, and the annoying Snape.

And Professor McGonagall, who is the vice-principal.

Professor Sprout, a herbalist, was indeed rather unremarkable.

"Hey! I've got a short temper! Without the herbs my professor cultivates, would you even be able to drink any energy drinks this winter's flu season?" Owen instantly flared up, glaring at Wood's wooden face, and continued, "All of you, go to the second greenhouse and apologize to Professor Sprout!"

A strange light flashed in his eyes.

His lips couldn't help but curl upwards.

Then, fearing that his true intentions would be discovered by Harry and the others—mainly Hermione—he immediately put on a noble act of serving the young wizard.

He said, "Regarding Quidditch, if Professor Sprout doesn't agree, how can tomorrow's match proceed? Use your brain!"

"I'm going to find Professor Snape right now. With a two-pronged approach, we're sure to thwart the Slytherin team's plot!"

After saying that, he hurriedly ran towards the castle.

Wood, prompted by Irving, became interested as if he had grasped at a lifeline. With a broad smile, he led the Gryffindor team toward the second greenhouse.

As everyone knows, Professor Sprout is easily swayed; as long as they act pitiful, she will definitely take her side.

Wood walked briskly, full of confidence.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron followed.

Wipe, wipe, wipe, what are you wiping, Salazar statue?

I, Ron, also have the dignity of a Gryffindor!

I'd rather be locked up in solitary confinement and die in the Potions classroom than wipe Salazar's face again!!!

As he spoke, he threw the dirty mop on the ground.

Then he drove off.

On the other side, after turning the corner, Irving quietly turned back.

He followed Wood all the way to the second greenhouse.

I looked up and saw Cedric there too.

Hmm—there are so many people!

More is better! More is wonderful!

With more of them, he can easily steal!

Irving, hiding in the corner, cast an invisibility spell on himself.

This spell, while not as effective as Harry's Invisibility Cloak, is still enough to keep you out of sight.

He then carefully made his way through the crowd and cautiously made his way into the greenhouse.

"Professor, this is Slytherin's conspiracy!"

"Ah, right," the twins chimed in.

"There will be a lot of wind and rain tomorrow. What if something happens to Hufflepuff?" Wood continued to argue.

"Ah, right, right!" the twins chimed in.

"This will definitely affect your game against Ravenclaw. I heard they've hired a mysterious new Seeker, and I think Hufflepuff needs time to find out more about them."

"Ah! Yes, yes, yes!"

The twins' strangely emphasized tone made Cedric very uncomfortable, and the gentle smile on his handsome face lessened slightly.

Although he didn't want to compete against Gryffindor so soon.

Hufflepuff has always been the worst house in Quidditch, with inferior tactics, personnel, and equipment compared to Slytherin, who had the support of the Malfoy family, Gryffindor, who had talented players, and Ravenclaw, who were quite effective in causing trouble.

Since becoming captain of the Hufflepuff team, he has always felt that the only way for them to win is to invite Irving to join the team.

No matter where he is.

As long as he appears on the field, no house dares to underestimate them; at least Slytherin would never dare to use their usual dirty tricks on them.

But no matter how much Professor Sprout invited and persuaded him, Irving never showed any interest in the sport.

This left him very confused about how to improve the Hufflepuff team's fighting power.

Since the rise of Gryffindor's freshmen, they have won two consecutive championships.

Cedric understood the difference!

But these words shouldn't have come from Wood, because he clearly looked down on himself and the Hedgehog team.

Of course, Harry caught the Golden Snitch in just five minutes during the last match against Gryffindor, so others have reason to be proud.

Hey ~

That's why he didn't want to talk about the Gryffindor match; he needed time to prepare some tactics!

"Professor, you should protest to Professor Snape. Yes, that's right, protest."

He has absolutely no respect for you, and neither does Hufflepuff.

If he can change the match order based on his mood this time, then next time Slytherin faces Hufflepuff, they can use the same method: first let Hufflepuff play against another team in the rain, then take advantage of your weakness and arrange for you to play against them.

"If the competition is like this, what kind of fairness is there? They can play against whomever they want? I suggest that the Quidditch Cup be awarded to Slytherin from now on, then we won't have to train and compete so hard."

Wood kept talking.

He's articulate, sharp-tongued, and logically sound. A complete transformation from the blockhead he used to be!

Harry, standing to the side, looked at his old captain in surprise.

When did he develop such eloquence?

Normally, Wood hardly participates in any topics other than Quidditch.

Harry even sometimes thought that Wood's head might be made of the Golden Snitch, Quaffle, Loopball, hoop, and bat, with no room for anything else.

Listening to Wood's story.

Professor Sprout gradually frowned, and the gentle smile on his face faded.

Her body always partially blocked the greenhouse door, allowing only the young wizards to stand before her and speak to her.

Wood was right; the professor was indeed very easily swayed.

She was already thinking about talking to Snape.

"Hey~ you can't see me, you can't see me, sneak up and crept forward~" Owen muttered to himself, as if he were wearing a mirror that reflected the surrounding scenery and made him invisible. He crouched down, his body shrunken, and with cat-like steps, he crept in step by step from under Professor Sprout's nose.

"As expected, as long as I walk slowly enough, I won't trigger the character warning system, hehe!"

"Hmm? This is the first time I've seen this amazing plant!"

I just crossed the gate.

Behind Professor Sprout, a huge plant blocked his path.

It was a very tall, strange plant, about ten feet tall.

The grass leaves have wavy edges, and the flowers are a vibrant purplish-red.

There are two types: unopened flower buds and already opened flower buds.

The unopened flowers are oblong-ovate in shape, resembling ears. When fully open, the center of the flower is hollow, resembling a human mouth.

Her bright red lips, adorned with a few flower buds, were parted.

Quite strange.

"Stop! Thief!"

"???"

Roar!

What a truly authentic, genuine Ming Dynasty Beijing dialect!

That almost scared him out of his wits!

Upon hearing the sound, Professor Sprout immediately turned around alertly, only to see ripples spreading across the previously empty space behind him.

"Irving!"

Without even thinking, she knew it was that brat Owen who had sneaked in.

He's already sneaked in four times this week!

"What...what is this?!" Owen, whose invisibility spell had been activated in his panic, had no choice but to dispel it, then glared at the 'multiple mouths!' in front of him with obvious displeasure.

"Thief! Thief! Catch the thief!!!" *Beep beep beep*

"Ward?" Owen's scalp tingled as the Justice Bell rang in his ears!

"You're the thief! Your whole family are thieves! What trashy grass!" (referring to a type of plant)

Damn, it can even talk! Fine, it can talk!

"He still has that authentic old Beijing accent!" Owen exclaimed in return, speaking in perfect Beijing dialect.

"This is the door-guarding plant." Sprout sighed softly, then walked over to Owen with undisguised joy, separating him from the strangely shaped magical plant.

In case this amazing plant, which just arrived in England, is accidentally washed away

"It was just transported from the Ming Dynasty."

Then, she shifted her gaze from the plants to Owen, and said with a hint of warning, "It can distinguish between human speech and the sounds of wind rustling through grass or animals, and it can also discern good and bad intentions, knowing who harbors thoughts detrimental to others."

"It doesn't make a sound normally, but it will make a sound when someone with bad intentions passes by."

"??? What? The Classic of Mountains and Seas? Our Great Ming Dynasty still has such a thing?"

He could still hear that guy cursing him for being a thief.

Irving looked like a wilted eggplant, his eyes filled with a sense of absurdity; he suddenly had a feeling of déjà vu, as if the Classic of Mountains and Seas had descended to earth.

Speaking of which, Sirocco also has Zouwu blood!

Could the Ming Dynasty really have the mythical creatures described in the Classic of Mountains and Seas?

It's something like Yinglong, Taotie, Bifang, Bai Ze, Jingwei, Zhulong, and demons and monsters!

Mom!

What a piece of trash Hogwarts! I'm dropping out right now and going back to school in my Great Ming Dynasty!

Is starting school like receiving a metal-eating beast as a gift?!

Owen, whose mind was already reeling with his own thoughts, wore a face etched with grief and indignation. He lamented, as if denouncing the unjust world, "You...you went to great lengths to find such a bizarre creature from thousands of miles away just to capture me?"

"Yes!" Professor Sprout reached out and grabbed Owen's spine, just as he often did with Heroic.

Then they picked him up, chased him away, and complained.

"You are not allowed to ruin my treasures anymore. At least wait until November, after the cabbage has produced seeds."

"It'll be too late then! Professor, I don't want to get a zero in any course. My perfect academic record can't be tainted! Oh! Give me one more! Just one, just one! Waaah~" Owen, who was being lifted up by Professor Sprout, struggled wildly and without any regard for his image.

"Hmph~ Don't even think about it. Once you kill this one, you'll come running back for another one. Do you think I don't understand?" the professor said firmly.

"No, no! I promise this is the last one! Just give me one! I swear, I swear on the honor of Harry's godfather! Please, please, please!!!"

If he weren't being dragged around like this, Irving would have dared to immediately, right there in front of so many people, *smack*, and very quickly, roll around on the ground!

"Look at you now! You're nothing like a student council president anymore! They've seen everything!" The professor was exasperated and had already thrown Owen out of the greenhouse.

"It's okay!" Owen said in a high-pitched voice, jumping and skipping as he tried to rush inside.

"They wouldn't dare spread rumors."

"Right~"

After saying that, everyone present turned their heads to look elsewhere in perfect unison.

Apart from Hermione, who looked at him with disgust, no one dared to look him in the eye.

It was as if there were some exquisite murals on the wall, captivating their gaze.

"Look~"

"Alright, stop scaring them." Professor Sprout rubbed her forehead, completely at a loss with this mischievous, intelligent, and capable student. In the end, she had no choice but to resort to her ultimate weapon against students.

"Many new varieties of amazing plants, not from Britain, have recently arrived. I need an observer here~ If you could—"

"Goodbye!" The next second, Irving took off running.

What kind of observer are we talking about? We just need some free labor, the kind of job with tons of responsibilities and tasks, and the grueling job of writing observation logs every day.

Only a silly college student with boundless energy who has nowhere to vent would go there.

Heh, I'm working in a lab now!

Watching Owen's retreating figure, Professor Sprout smiled gently, his face as warm as the sunlight shining on the ground after a rainstorm.

This child!

The professor shook his head and then continued his conversation with Wood and the others.

Time passed just like that.

Early the next morning.

Irving was awakened by the howling wind outside the window and the rumbling thunder in the sky.

He just glanced out the window.

I knew it was a bad day to get out of bed.

Of course, I shouldn't go to work tomorrow, so I still have to get up at six.

Hey!

He got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom, still half asleep.

Looking up, I saw Cedric and the others already dressed, holding their brooms, sitting quietly in front of the fireplace in the common room.

There was no light in the fireplace, and the entire common room was gloomy.

Occasionally, flashes of lightning would shine in.

"Professor Sprout was persuaded by Snape?" He yawned as he walked over.

"Hmm." Cedric replied worriedly, "Professor Snape said that Gryffindor has been preparing to deal with Slytherin for a full month. If it were us today, we would have a better chance of winning."

"And then Professor Sprout agreed?"

"Um!"

Irving responded, and suddenly realized a new understanding of the professor's soft-heartedness. Yes, she was soft-hearted to everyone!

However, he didn't really have any interest in Quidditch anyway.

What does winning or losing have to do with him?

After breakfast, Owen and his companions, wearing heavy raincoats, left the castle.

The cold rain made him shiver, and Hannah and Susan beside him were also shivering.

Even so, it did not dampen their enthusiasm.

Judging from his grave-visiting expression, you can tell Irving was forced to come.

Hannah forcibly dragged him out of the lounge.

All along the way, she kept instilling in him the grand principles of Hufflepuff honor, which Owen found tiresome. In the end, he could only compromise to get Hannah to stop telling him about Hufflepuff's long history, starting from 1,400 years ago.

Outside the castle, the wind howled and the rain poured down, but as usual, the entire school turned out to watch the game. They ran across the lawn to the Quidditch pitch, sat in the damp stands, and bowed their heads to ward off the strong wind.

Irving found it completely nonsensical.

Is this considered revenge entertainment?

Because they've been suppressing their feelings for so long, once they have time to relax, they indulge in retaliatory eating, drinking, and having fun.

Irving even spotted Professor Trelawney among the group of professors; she had actually come too.

Instead of staying in that warm classroom and making up prophecies that you're about to use?

Speaking of this old con woman, her classic black dog death prophecy ultimately landed on Harry's head.

Under his constant psychological manipulation, Harry developed severe PTSD.

He truly felt like he was walking with death, as if he was about to die any second!

Harry, however, blamed everything on the innocent Dementors.

For this reason, he spent the entire month frantically seeking private tutoring from Professor Lu Ping.

I heard that he can now release a ball of silver light from the Guardian Angel Spell.

The progress can be described as miraculous.

This incident tells us two things. First, Professor Trelawney's predictions are mostly realized through long-term, relentless manipulation. When you become suspicious and distracted, things are bound to go wrong.

Secondly, people can indeed unleash certain potential in emergency situations. For example, after he fought the Dementors on the train and the Dementors attacked the train, the young wizards showed an exceptionally high level of enthusiasm for learning the Patronus Charm.

While not every young wizard can be as gifted as Harry, casting a decent Patronus in just one month, many young wizards can still manage to produce silver threads at the tip of their wands.

Hannah pulled Owen along, and he reluctantly walked to the stands.

Justin had already reserved the spots for them.

He waved one hand to indicate that he was there.

Braving the fierce wind and rain, the group looked up at the field, where the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Quidditch teams were beginning to enter.

Amid the cheers of the crowd, Irving could only vaguely see many people walking out of the locker room.

The wind and rain were extremely strong.

So much so that it blocked his view.

He couldn't see very far.

The cheers of the young wizards filled Owen's ears, which terrified him. Everyone around him was shouting incoherently, making it seem as if he were the only person in the entire arena, unable to see anything.

What are you cheering for?

What else is there over there besides a few confused figures?

If I'm not blind, are you all just imagining the game?

Then why not sleep in the dormitory?

The scenes in my dream were even in 4K high definition!

Irving was internally cursing wildly until Mrs. Hodge blew her whistle, and the game officially began!

Blurry red and yellow figures crisscrossed the field.

The cheers from the crowd came in waves, but he couldn't see anyone or hear Jordan's commentary.

In short, for him, this competition was all about looking at oil paintings with 800 degrees of nearsightedness – a process of visual impressionism!

Hey~ Who's got the ball? I don't know!

Who's attacking? We don't know!

Who's in the lead? Sorry, I can't see the scoreboard!

Amidst the black and gray ink-wash scene, red and yellow lights flickered back and forth—that was all Irving could see!

Five minutes later, regardless of how the game is going.

He's leaving!

Even the King of Heaven is here, so he has to go back to the common room!

"Snap!"

As if on cue, a bolt of lightning struck from the sky.

Irving immediately stopped in his tracks.

The Heavenly King himself!

Let's give him some face!

On the scene, Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to control his broom.

The wind is too strong.

They were flying at high speed, and with each turn he had the illusion that he was being thrown off.

And the raindrops were pelting his goggles. If Irving was watching the game entirely based on his imagination, then he was playing the game entirely based on his imagination!

"Crack!" Another clap of thunder and lightning.

Lady Hooch's whistle rang out with the first flash of lightning.

Harry could only make out Wood's silhouette through the dense rain curtain. Wood was gesturing to Harry to come down to the ground.

The whole team splashed water as they descended into the mud.

"I called a timeout!" Wood yelled at his players. "Come on, down there—"

(End of this chapter)