I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 168 A Guardian God as Fearful as the Sky, a Monster Blocking the High Heavens

"OMG, this is the coolest thing I've ever done."

"Yes! Together we drove away hundreds of Dementors."

"Hey Colin, did you capture my heroic moment on camera?"

"Heh~ You? The glow of your wand is so dim it's practically negligible. What business is it of yours?"

Harry heard many people whispering.

He couldn't open his eyes.

Confusion.

All he could sense was that the area beneath him was wet and soft.

I must have landed on the grass.

Suddenly a whistle reached his ears, followed by cheers from countless people.

"Gryffindor wins!!!"

Yes, Gryffindor wins.

Harry was still clutching the Golden Snitch tightly in his hand!

The next second, the entire Gryffindor stands erupted in almost frenzied shouts.

It's unclear whether they're celebrating for Harry or for themselves!

Hehe—everyone was involved in driving away the Dementors, hmm—everyone's happy, congratulations on your fortune!

Irving looked away; he was the most unhappy.

This was the worst game he had ever seen; he couldn't see anything at all.

Standing in the rain, however, made him burn calories quickly and got hungry, that much is true.

Harry eventually woke up in the school infirmary.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team members were all by his bedside, covered in mud from head to toe, but their faces were full of excitement, and their joy was undiminished.

"Harry, Harry, what do you think?" Ron asked with an excited smile.

He had just used the Guardian Angel Spell, and although he didn't have a physical Guardian Angel, the intensity of the silver light he emitted far surpassed that of most junior wizards.

"Did we win?" The first thing Harry said when he opened his eyes was about their match.

"We won! We beat Harry!" The wooden-headed Wood finally showed a sliver of humanity, excitedly grabbing Harry's hand. "We're leading by almost three hundred points!"

"That's good."

"Hey buddy, you didn't see my heroic performance just now. I dare say, there aren't many in Gryffindor who can cast the Patronus Charm better than me!" Ron proudly raised his head. He was telling the truth. There weren't many young wizards in Hogwarts who could surpass him in the Patronus Charm.

After all, the Weasleys are all geniuses.

Bill, the eldest brother, is the Gryffindor prefect, the president of the Hogwarts School of Boys' Council, and holds twelve OWL certificates.

Charlie, the second brother, is a Gryffindor prefect, president of the Hogwarts boys' council, and holds twelve OWL certificates. In seventh year, he helped Gryffindor win the Quidditch Cup that year.

Percy, the third brother, was a Gryffindor prefect, former head of the Hogwarts School of Boys' Council, and held twelve OWL certificates. He later became the assistant minister of magic.

The Geminis need no introduction. Although they are not academically inclined, their talents in alchemy, potion-making, and spellcasting are even stronger than those of their older brothers!

Therefore, it's impossible for Ron to be mediocre.

"Hey, Ron, Hermione's spells can reveal the Patronus' appearance, and they're both third-year students. What do you have to be proud of!" George ruthlessly crushed Ron's pride.

Yes, he is indeed very talented, but unfortunately, all the young wizards who can surpass him happen to be gathered here.

"Can you make me happy for even a moment?" Ron immediately frowned, his eyes full of displeasure.

Everyone burst out laughing.

Hermione had no intention of joining the boys' conversation; she frowned the entire time. "But why are the Dementors attacking us again? Shouldn't they be protecting us?"

"Hermione," Fred exclaimed, then mimicked a Dementor by stretching out his hands and making a face, "Do you think a monster like that can reason with a wizard?"

"The Ministry of Magic just employs them."

"They have absolutely no control over the Dementors!"

George nodded. As children within the system, they knew far more than the average wizard. "Have you seen *The Quibbler*?"

"No." Hermione shook her head.

"While that magazine is full of lies and fantasies in many places, they are right about Dementors."

"Dementors are like wolves kept by the Ministry of Magic. They allow those monsters to absorb the emotions of Azkaban prisoners, just like feeding wolves and then hiring them to guard the prison."

"But what about now?" Fred continued, "The Dementors can't find food around Hogwarts!"

"So—they're bound to attack us!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief, drawing a terrifying conclusion.

“No, I guess they wouldn’t dare.” Ron raised an eyebrow. “With Dumbledore at the castle, they wouldn’t dare attack a young wizard. I think it was Harry who rushed into them and startled the Dementors.”

"Perhaps!" The twins nodded, deeply agreeing with Ron's guess. After all, Dementors weren't a bunch of mindless fools; they knew the consequences of attacking a young wizard.

Then everyone came up with all sorts of guesses.

And where the Dementors go afterward.

The infirmary only quieted down after Madam Pomfrey angrily dispersed them with a bottle of potion.

A few days later, thanks to Madam Pomfrey's specially made energizer, Harry was almost fully recovered after lying in bed for two more days. However, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let him leave the hospital and made him rest for another day before finally letting him go.

Harry was greeted with a hero's cheer when he returned to his dormitory!

The twins held a special celebration in the Gryffindor common room.

Everyone was overjoyed, not only because they had won, but more importantly because Colin's photo had been published in the newspaper again!

Yes, the next day the Daily Prophet published a picture taken by Colin of a little wizard named God-Resistant Monster!

Front page headline—A guardian deity as fearful as the heavens, a monster blocking the sky.

Both the young wizards and Hogwarts stole the show this time!

A striking black and white composition!

It's an epic experience that takes your breath away!

The newspapers published the most spectacular scene.

This is not like what happened with Irving, although heroism is very popular in Europe!

But when your own child becomes a hero, that's when the bomb ignites the conversation!

Many parents were surprised to find that they could vaguely see their children's figures under that magnificent sky.

The day after the incident, countless letters poured into Hogwarts from all over Britain, all inquiries from students' parents!

And after receiving an affirmative answer!

Public opinion exploded again!

"Look, that's my son! My son!"

"Haha! Look, my daughter's in the newspaper! Haha, can you see her? She's right on the edge of the stands!"

"Heh, only half her face is showing. Who knows if it's your daughter? Look at my son, he showed his whole face!"

"What's the use of showing your face! Look at my grandson, see, you can even see the outline of his Patronus! He's only fourteen years old, and he can already cast the Patronus Charm at fourteen. My grandson is definitely a genius Hogwarts has seen in a hundred years!"

Such scenes occur frequently.

Many parents were also realizing for the first time how strong their children were!

Seriously speaking, most parents might not even be able to use the Guardian Angel spell effectively.

Wizards who can summon a guardian deity are considered to possess exceptional magical power. In ancient times, wizards who could summon a physical guardian deity were even directly recommended for positions as officials in the Ministry of Magic.

It can be said that a wizard who can use a Guardian Charm is not necessarily a first-rate wizard, but a first-rate wizard will definitely use a Guardian Charm!

This spell has long been considered by the wizarding world as a standard feature of the strong.

Now that their own child has actually unleashed this curse, you can imagine how excited those parents are.

Professor Dumbledore received letters of praise from parents for several days in a row.

The newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Lupin, also received a large number of letters of commendation.

This left the unknown werewolf wizard somewhat at a loss.

Of course, this happy period of mutual harmony did not last long.

It shouldn't even be said that it lasted a day.

Because the parents, realizing what had happened, suddenly discovered that the Dementors from the Ministry of Magic had gone out of control once again and were launching a large-scale attack on the young wizards!

It's worth it!

Minister of Magic Fudge immediately became the target of everyone's anger!

Send a letter yelling at the minister.

This is the topic that many employees in the department have been talking about the most these days.

It's obvious to everyone that Fudge has already gone too far, and this Dementors out-of-control incident will be the last straw.

He might really be going to resign by Christmas.

As more and more officials came to the fore, the Ministry of Magic was instantly thrown into turmoil. Everyone was anxiously scrambling to choose sides.

The new Minister of Magic is gradually emerging amidst everyone's eager anticipation.

------

On the other side, Hogwarts Castle.

The day after the game, Irving happily carried a biting cabbage from the eighth floor to the Room of Requirement.

This is the former principal's reward to him!

Hey.

Once he obtained the crucial experimental materials, Irving immediately began his research.

Perhaps it was because he had driven away the Dementors that his bad luck was also driven away.

Irving's preparations went very smoothly.

Every step was perfect!

This time, he's sure to succeed!

Irving is very confident about this!

Then, unsurprisingly—of course, something unexpected happened.

Haha—just kidding! Doing an experiment isn't like opening a box where you're guaranteed a minimum success rate after ten tries! If the experiment design is flawed, one plus one will never equal three!

Owen, who had destroyed the last biting cabbage in just over ten minutes, returned to his dorm room from the Room of Requirement, dejected, to prepare for the judgment of alchemy.

The last week of October.

In alchemy class.

Wenda sat in a soft armchair, with five books of 'trash' that the little wizard had poured his heart and soul into lying at her feet.

That elegant figure, though not uttering a single word, exuded a sense of oppression that rivaled even that of Professor McGonagall.

"Your experimental design—you deduced that the venom would eventually be degraded by mithril?" Professor Wenda, holding up Irving's assignment, continued calmly with a cold gaze, "Did you come up with that with your toes?"

"Uh," Irving mumbled, his eyes glazed over, and he replied with an extremely unnatural, awkward smile, "That—I was just guessing."

"Hmm?" Wenda glanced at him with her gray eyes, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Come on, say it again."

"I'll go steal two more from Professor Sprout's greenhouse right now." With that, the person prepared to yo-yo.

"Trying to run away?" Suddenly, Wenda waved her hand, and instantly, all the tables and chairs in the classroom began to move.

Like building blocks, Irving's feet and his desk were moving backward, as if some force was pulling him, pushing him little by little towards the lectern.

"This!" Owen's eyes widened. He had only ever seen a classroom like this in Beauxbatons. When did she transform her classroom into something like this?

"Right here—"

Irving's table moved to the front of the table, and then a piece of parchment floated down in front of him automatically.

"Derive the process of replacing the mithril you need to use."

"This..." Irving looked troubled and said hesitantly in a low voice, "Professor, is it possible, I mean, that I don't know how?"

"You can't do it?" She raised an eyebrow, her face radiating arrogance as she bluntly stated, "Isn't this all in the book? You can't even do it by following the instructions?"

?

This time it was Irving's turn to be confused. What?!

When did it appear in the book?

"That professor." He flipped through the pages of the book on the table, finally finding the page where the alchemy had been replaced. "The book only has conclusions, no principles! Not even derivation equations. I'm already quite good at writing the experimental design."

The French rose's eyes sharpened.

Irving immediately hissed, then pointed out the key point: "You've exhausted your imagination."

"?" Upon hearing this, Wenda took the book "Standard Alchemy, Beginner" from Owen's hand and casually flipped through a couple of pages.

Then his brows furrowed even deeper.

"Is this the teaching material at Hogwarts? A complete collection of children's stories?"

"No wonder you spent a whole year studying definitions of terms; it turns out magic schools are meant to train literary figures!"

Her voice was full of sarcasm, and then she threw the trash in her hand on the ground.

"Hey, Professor, didn't you choose this textbook?" Owen glanced at the textbook on the ground, which had less than twenty pages, seven or eight of which were illustrations, and sighed with some regret.

This is the thinnest of all his textbooks.

He really liked it, but I'm afraid I won't be able to see it again in the future.

"Hmph! I'll study first." With that, she suddenly stood up, the trash she had thrown away floating behind her, then turned gracefully and walked straight out of the classroom.

She passed by the young wizards.

Her exquisite makeup and sharp demeanor made her look nothing like a nearly 100-year-old 'elder', even though she was a few years older than Professor McGonagall. Judging from her appearance alone, she looked to be only about 30 years old.

"Phew~"

Percy and the others breathed a sigh of relief after watching the figure leave the classroom.

"She's even more terrifying than Professor McGonagall."

"He doesn't say a word."

As a Gryffindor prefect, Percy had long felt the weight of Professor McGonagall's authority.

During the Transfiguration class, the professor always had a serious face.

Every sentence he uttered only conveyed what was taught in class; he would never say anything extra.

His serious demeanor instilled fear in the young wizard.

But Wenda was completely different.

She sat in the lecture hall during class, as if she were from a completely different world from them.

But it was precisely that sense of alienation and unfamiliarity, and the unknown it brought, that continuously deepened the young wizard's fear.

That stems from the deep-seated fear of the unknown in the human soul.

"She is quite formidable!" Perhaps it was just his imagination, but Owen always felt a strange—how should I put it, a sense of oppression—when he was talking to Wenda.

He had never experienced that with Dumbledore.

If this were a professor with Irving's personality, he would have given up long ago: "My son sets difficult questions, my grandson is a strict proctor, I don't know the answers, give me back my tuition fees"—he wouldn't be so concerned.

"Speaking of which, Owen," Percy suddenly looked up at him, his expression relaxing slightly, "you also have the last name Sanchez, the professor's last name is Sanchez, and you and she even look a bit alike."

More than that, if Kyrie Irving had long hair...

"You both have gray eyes, black hair, and similar face shapes. You're not related, are you?"

"Relatives?" Percy's question made Owen realize that he and Vanda seemed to have some connection.

No way~

He didn't dare to think that he and Wenda were directly related by blood. After all, his maternal grandfather was still alive, and Owen didn't think that Wenda could be interested in any other man.

He speculated that his mother might be a descendant of the Rozier family. He might belong to the same family as Wenda.

Wow!

Now we've become descendants of a large family!

On the other side—the headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore pulled open the cabinet next to the wall. The Pensieve popped out.

It was a shallow stone basin with strangely shaped carvings on its rim.

It was filled with something that was neither liquid nor gas; it was like a bright piece of silver, but it was constantly flowing, like ripples on the surface of water in a breeze, or like clouds drifting and gently swirling.

However, Dumbledore's gaze was not on the Pensieve, but on the mirror above it.

It was a two-way mirror.

On the other side of the mirror is Nicolas Flamel's safe house in Paris, France.

"Strange~"

"Amazing!"

"What's wrong?" the principal asked.

"My potion shouldn't have that effect, but the child's soul has indeed stabilized considerably." Nick muttered to himself, staring at a metal instrument in his hand with a puzzled expression.

"He can be cured?" A glint flashed in the old principal's eyes.

His tone showed a noticeable fluctuation.

"No, Albus, this is just the calm before the storm; the rain will surely come."

"I need time to continue my research on the magic recipe."

"Alright." The old headmaster's expression returned to normal. He sighed, then pressed a switch on the cabinet, and the stone basin retracted.

He sighed softly, then turned and walked to a delicate silver instrument on the table.

Dumbledore moved the instrument to the desk, sat down facing them again, and gently tapped it with the tip of his wand.

The instrument immediately began to operate, emitting rhythmic tinkling sounds. Wisps of pale green smoke billowed from the small silver tube at the top, gathering and swirling in the air. Dumbledore stared intently at the smoke, his brow furrowed. A few seconds later, the wisps of smoke coalesced into a steady plume of smoke, growing thicker and thicker, swirling in the air—its tip transforming into a soaring phoenix, its wings outstretched as it took flight.

That's not a Fox.

It was another phoenix, smaller and weaker.

'Knock knock~'

Suddenly, a series of urgent knocks on the door broke Dumbledore's thoughts.

He remained calm, raised his hand to disperse the smoke, then returned to his desk and chair, and opened the black leather notebook.

He noticed that his good college student hadn't replied to his letter.

"Please come in!" A dignified voice rang out, and then a woman wearing a dark green, tight-fitting robe and fire dragon leather boots walked in.

"I heard you once studied alchemy with Nicholas Flamel and discovered twelve uses for dragon's blood." Vanda's cool voice, tinged with a strange sarcasm, reached Dumbledore's ears. "Did you steal Nicholas's work?"

"?" The old headmaster was taken aback. His achievements in alchemy were obvious to all, and Wenda couldn't possibly be unaware of them. So what had happened?

"Perhaps the headmaster is so busy that he doesn't even have time to consider the school's teaching materials?" As she spoke, the "Standard Alchemy, Elementary" book behind her landed with a thud on Dumbledore's desk, and the sarcasm in her alluring gray eyes deepened, because she saw the black leather diary next to Dumbledore's hand.

"So you're writing your own autobiography! Are you going to compile a training manual outlining how you betray others and manipulate people, so those little wizards can all learn from you?"

"This notebook belongs to someone else," the old headmaster explained, then realized that his answer might only make others more disgusted, since it was something like peeking into someone else's diary.

He immediately put down Tom's notebook, picked up the book "Standard Alchemy, Beginner" and glanced at it before saying, "What's wrong with it? It's short, concise, and powerful, perfect for a young wizard to learn."

"Ha—then why don't you get a dictionary to use as a textbook?"

"Hmm—the main purpose of this textbook is to stimulate young wizards' interest in alchemy. Look—it's full of illustrations and text; how can a sixteen-year-old understand such complex alchemical principles?" Dumbledore explained, a slightly embarrassed smile on his face.

The other textbooks were chosen by the professors themselves, but the course on alchemy was special. Ancient alchemy did not have a standard textbook. The previous professor simply translated Beauxbatons' third-year elective course (alchemy was one of their third-year electives) into English and used it as is.

Anyway, alchemy isn't involved in NEWT (the advanced wizarding level exam).

For subjects that don't have exams, isn't that physical education class?

"Interests? Starting to cultivate interests at sixteen? Don't you think that's a bit late?" Wenda said bluntly.

It's never too late to learn.

"Heh—if you can't even cast a disarming spell by the age of sixteen, then just break your wand and use it as a chicken. If you can't understand alchemy by the age of sixteen, then drop out of school and become a mother to those magical beasts. If you're still studying at school at sixteen, you'll never achieve anything in your life."

"I think you're going a bit too far," Dumbledore replied, his lips twitching slightly.

(End of this chapter)