I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 217 The first day of summer vacation begins with an adventure.

The first day of summer vacation.

Irving was woken up early in the morning by urgent knocking on the door.

Then he heard Dobby's voice.

As he turned to try and drift back to sleep, the sound came from the stairs again.

That was someone's footsteps.

Then came the sound of his door being opened.

"Mr. Sanchez hasn't gotten up yet!" Dobby's high-pitched voice, filled with joy and lightness, reached Owen's ears.

"Look~~~"

------

"Huff~ Huff~"

Owen, lying on the bed, let out a heavy sigh.

His eyes trembled violently.

Then, finally unable to hold it in any longer, she opened her eyes.

He jumped out of bed and roared, "Are you sick?! Are you sick?! What are you doing so early in the morning?!"

An angry howl echoed throughout the room.

Then he saw another person standing in front of the door, besides Dobby.

The man had a gray beard, wore crescent-shaped glasses, and had a pair of deep blue eyes as unfathomable as the ocean, making it impossible for anyone not to be captivated by them.

"Wow! I didn't expect you to like this style."

Upon hearing the sound, Owen quickly covered himself with the blanket to hide his failed attempt at embroidering Man's bitter tea seeds.

Then, suppressing her embarrassment, she said, "I usually don't wear bitter tea at home."

"Um, Professor, what did you want to see me about?"

"I'll send you a letter this morning, but," the old headmaster picked up the breakfast prepared for him on the table in his room, a glass of fresh milk, took a sip, and nodded with satisfaction, "it would be even better with a little sugar."

"But it seems you didn't receive it."

"How could I receive this so early in the morning?" Owen complained, staring at Dumbledore, completely unaware that the sun was high in the sky, and the light streaming into the house was almost a thin line. This was precisely when the sun was at its highest angle.

"Alright, get up!" he said.

"Ready for an adventure."

"???"

"Adventure? What adventure? Who would go on an adventure on the first day of summer vacation?!"

Completely bewildered, Irving slowly got out of bed, took a shower, changed into more casual clothes, and then ate some leftovers.

Feeling depressed, he followed Old Deng's phantom transformation and left his warm home.

When his vision cleared again, he realized that he was currently at the seaside.

The cold sea breeze ruffled his hair, and in the distance, the winter sun shone with a faint, warm temperature that felt very comfortable on his skin.

It's very much like the Channel between England and France.

Because the coastline there is entirely composed of cliffs hundreds of meters high.

"This is?"

Irving looked around curiously.

They discovered that someone had already arrived and was waiting for them.

"Hi! Owen!" Harry walked over cheerfully.

He happily shook Irving's hand, "I should have known better than to say goodbye yesterday."

Sirius Black was also standing on the edge of the cliff, accompanied by Kreacher.

Alright—Irving immediately knew his current location.

Where are they?

"Why are you here too?"

Besides these people, what Owen found most unacceptable was why Hermione was also there.

If Harry's situation is due to Sirius Black, then what about Hermione?

Why is she there?

"The future Minister for Magic, well, it's always good to have more experience," Professor Dumbledore said casually, as if, through his tireless encouragement, he too was convinced that Hermione would become Minister for Magic.

Of course, this is the former principal!

The reason given by him must be ruled out first.

When Owen noticed Dumbledore's inexplicable gaze sweeping over him and Hermione, the truth became clear.

What's wrong with you, principal?

Is it okay to be so irresponsible every day?

Irving, who inwardly despised this behavior, said in a deep voice, "What are we going to do?"

"Take the young master home, I want to take young master Regulus home," Kreacher replied in a hoarse, bullfrog-like voice, which made him seem quite neurotic, like a crazed little elf.

But both Irving and everyone around knew that it wasn't crazy; it just loved its little owner.

"We will bring Regulus back." Dumbledore looked at Kreacher. "Without a doubt, he is a hero and deserves the honor a hero should have."

Having said that, the old headmaster stood on the edge of the cliff and waved his wand slightly. Slowly, the stone beneath his feet suddenly trembled slightly, and then, with the help of Transfiguration, a series of downward stairs suddenly appeared on the ninety-degree cliff edge.

The staircase is zigzagging, stretching from the mountaintop all the way down to the bottom of the cliff.

"Let's go!" he said.

Harry and Hermione were both shocked by what they saw.

Filled with awe for magic, the group stepped onto the stone steps.

Each stone seemed to be the same height, as neatly cut as if by a knife and axe, and—looking down at the ever-growing stone steps, they were even more shocked.

Such transformation magic is not something that ordinary people can use.

As they drew closer to the surface, the surrounding temperature dropped rapidly, whether due to Voldemort's magic or simply the nature of the area was unknown. The surrounding sea was turbulent, and Owen even spotted several whirlpools and hidden reefs beneath them.

"There's no way any ships will come to this godforsaken place," he thought to himself.

"Thank goodness, we came in the summer." Harry rubbed his arms, his face showing a mixture of tension and unease.

Upon reaching the cave entrance, a pungent, salty, and fishy smell enveloped their noses. The smell was exceptionally strong and unlike anything one would expect from the ocean.

Because seawater is constantly flowing, any taste will be diluted and dispersed by the sea, and there would never be such a strong salty and fishy smell gathered here.

However, neither Owen nor Dumbledore were surprised, since this was where Voldemort had buried his Horcruxes.

Some things are abnormal, but that's all normal.

As they descended the stone steps, Kreacher began to ramble on about the love-hate relationship between Regulus and Voldemort.

The story of the brave Slytherins betraying Voldemort and taking away the Dark Lord's treasure shocked Harry and Hermione.

It's a little embarrassing to admit, but both of them, especially Harry, always believed that Slytherin was specifically designed to train dark wizards!

They walked slowly forward along a narrow crevice filled with jagged rocks, talking and observing their surroundings as they went, and soon arrived at a platform.

"A dead end?" Harry asked, looking at the road surrounded by rock walls.

"Young master, no, that's not it," Kreacher said anxiously.

Since the group came down, it seemed to be radiant, its face beaming with joy. It also became increasingly respectful towards everyone.

"Just a smokescreen." Owen glanced at the stone wall. "Think about it, if this really was Voldemort's chosen grave, how could it not be protected by magic?"

"Then—how do we open it?" Hermione asked curiously, almost instinctively looking at Owen. She didn't know when it started, but this instinctive questioning had become ingrained in her bones. She always felt that Owen knew the answer to everything. He always knew, even if the question was so tricky that ordinary people would find it absurd.

Sometimes, she even felt that Owen knew more than Dumbledore.

When Hermione asked Owen a question, Dumbledore, unusually, did not explain to them, but instead smiled at the boy, secretly wondering if Owen really knew the answer on the stone wall in front of him.

"Isn't it written on the wall?"

Owen rolled his eyes at Hermione. "It's a good thing you've read so many books!"

"Write?" The little witch was taken aback, looking blankly at the stone wall in front of her, but unfortunately she couldn't see anything except for the gray stone.

"Magic! It's magic! My Miss Granger. Voldemort has cast a spell!" Owen stretched out his wand and tapped it rhythmically, as if entering the back wall of the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley.

An invisible magic seeped into the wall following the sequence of his taps, and gradually, the wall, which was originally just stone, suddenly revealed many words.

Those are all ancient runes.

They intertwine to form a massive mechanism.

"Do you understand it?" Irving asked again.

"A small part," Hermione said.

"Not bad, at least the books weren't a waste of time. Five points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," Owen said jokingly.

"This isn't school." Hermione was a little annoyed. Did that guy think she was a child?

"I know!" Owen chuckled, then looked back at the wall.

"That means blood and magic. It means that to enter, you must smear yourself with blood that carries magic."

"Oh! My dear senior Tom, his little tricks are always so simple, so idiotic." Owen said with a sneer, his hands already in his pockets, rummaging through them as if looking for something.

"What's the point of a mechanism splattered with blood?"

"Can it weaken the wizards?"

"That's bullshit. A full recovery will stop the bleeding."

"Then why is he doing all this pointless work?"

As Irving talked to himself, he quickened his pace. "In the end, he's still deeply entrenched in so-called mystical symbolism. Anyone who breaks in will leave blood behind. It's just like those legendary stories, where the high and mighty have to offer something to the one who enters."

"Hmph, he really thinks he's some new legend."

"Oh! Found it!"

Having said that, Irving was about to take something out of his pocket.

There was someone next to him who was even faster than him.

That's Sirius Black.

He used his wand to separate his palm, then smeared the flowing blood onto the wall.

The movements were executed in one fluid motion, both elegant and heroic.

Harry slowly turned his head, staring at everything in disbelief. His face turned pale instantly, and he rushed to Sirius's side in a panic.

"Uh..." On the other side, Irving, who was holding a glass and had just uncorked it, froze in place.

"What are you doing?" he asked Sirius, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"?"

"You said you need magical blood? Then use mine." Sirius Black raised his head and said through gritted teeth. "It's what I deserve."

Sirius said coldly, his guilt towards his younger brother making him do this subconsciously.

Just as Zhang was about to open his mouth to comfort Harry, he saw the glass bottle in Owen's hand.

"What's that in your hand?"

The dark red liquid rolled back and forth inside the transparent glass.

That definitely wasn't red wine.

Suddenly, the dog godfather realized that he might have done something stupid.

"A small jar of blood from an eight-eyed giant spider, a precious magical ingredient. I have a lot—um—a lot!"

To be precise, he has a mountain of materials about the eight-eyed giant spider.

Including but not limited to venom, blood, bones, claws, etc., these things are all gifts from nature, but the ways in which they are given are different, and well—the prices are also different.

As he spoke, he silently shoved the bottle back into his pocket. "Everyone says the Black family is wealthy and spends money like water without batting an eye, but now it seems that's a complete lie!"

They wouldn't even spend money to buy a bottle of eight-eyed spider blood, and would actually choose to use their own blood instead!

"What a fucking stingy person!"

"."

Sirius, upon hearing this, turned pale.

He glared at Irving and roared, "Can't you be a little quicker next time and just say everything at once?!"

"Damn it! It was your own recklessness, what does it have to do with me? But at least I have a bottle of ingredients left!"

"Do you know how valuable this bottle is? It costs a full three or four Galleons!"

"I'll give you five hundred Galleons. Throw all the blood out of your pockets!" Sirius roared again, displaying a ferocious rage.

To cover up his embarrassed expression!

"Well, I think that's enough," Dumbledore said softly, looking at the changing walls. "The effect is very noticeable."

"The blood of human wizards is better than that of magical creatures," he offered a way out.

But Irving didn't care, tilting his head back and exclaiming, "Ah! Yes, yes, yes!"

"you!"

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.

Blood splattered onto the wall instantly.

Then the wall suddenly crumbled like a collapsed set of building blocks, slowly falling away piece by piece, and a path appeared.

It was a cave entrance, and in front of it was a deep, dark abyss.

"Ultimate Glowing Light".

A beam of light shot out from Dumbledore's wand and flew into the sky, transforming into a small sun that illuminated the area.

Then Owen drew his wand, the tip of which glowed, and followed the old headmaster inside.

The others followed suit.

After walking a few steps along a mountain path, the view suddenly opened up before them.

At this moment, they are standing on the shore of a huge black lake.

The lake is very wide and boundless; you can't even see the opposite shore when you look up.

"This is it! Young Master Regulus is right here beneath this lake! Oh! Poor young master, Kreacher has come to take you home! Kreacher has come to take you home!" Gazing at the vast black lake, Kreacher suddenly howled in anguish, kneeling on the ground and sobbing uncontrollably. It was as if it wanted to cry out all the bitterness of the past decades.

"Is Regulus under this lake?" Sirius followed, standing by the lake, gazing intently at the water.

"Yeah! What, are you going to jump into the lake?" Owen rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor brute. "I suggest you throw a stone into the water first and listen to the sound!"

Think before you act!

"That's still much better than you opening your mouth first!" Sirius glanced at him and then said, panting heavily.

"Hey, so what if I have a bad temper? I have a mouth, why am I any different? Besides, if I move my mouth, at most I'll just lose some saliva, but someone else could lose their life." Owen continued his sarcastic rant without backing down.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, remained completely calm.

Because he knew that the child in front of him was actually warning him, in a tone most suitable for Sirius, not to impulsively enter the lake.

Under normal circumstances, Sirius would have already pounced into the lake by now.

His intense guilt towards his younger brother probably left him no time to think.

Besides, he's never been one to use his brain.

As for Irving, he always manages to find the most suitable way to connect with the other person, and with just a few simple words, he can completely dispel any dangerous thoughts the other person might have.

Harry nervously tugged at Sirius's sleeve, genuinely afraid that his godfather might suddenly leap into the green-glowing lake.

Even though he wasn't very bright, he could still guess that nothing good was going to happen down there.

"Let's move forward," Dumbledore suggested. "Kreacher mentioned the island in the middle of the lake and the stone altar that was originally used to store Horcruxes. If Regulus perished there, then that island should be the closest to his current location."

"Follow behind me, and remember, whatever you do, don't step into the water," he warned the young wizards.

Seeing Dumbledore's seriousness, Hermione couldn't help but feel nervous.

She quickly followed behind Irving.

Her hands froze, unsure of what to do. She tentatively grasped the boy's arm, but hesitated.

Ahead, Irving, who was being watched, noticed the intense gaze directed at him from behind.

He turned his head and saw Hermione's eyes.

"Stain—"

"Here, here, you can have this arm." He stretched out his left hand and generously handed it to Hermione.

"One Gallon per hour, thank you for your patronage! Monthly and yearly subscriptions are available. Pay 998 upfront and bring home a warm sense of security."

"Choose Sanchez's wrist for the most reassuring protection."

"Hogwarts is a renowned brand, a three-year-old establishment, and trustworthy."

"Uh—don't hold on so tight." He'd barely finished speaking when he felt a heavy weight suddenly appear on his left hand. "I'm not going to run away!"

Her two hands were like giant clamps, locking Owen's arms in place.

It seems they are afraid that this hard-won sense of security will suddenly disappear.

"I'm just afraid it will run away."

The girl's faint voice was even softer than the sound of a rose falling into water.

No one noticed what she was thinking at that moment.

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.

Ahead, Dumbledore walked around the lake shore, with the others following closely behind him.

Their footsteps echoed as they pounded on the narrow rocks by the lake.

As they continued walking forward, time gradually passed, but the surrounding scenery remained unchanged: on one side were rough cave walls, and on the other side was an endless, smooth, mirror-like black lake, with a mysterious green light shimmering in the very center of the lake.

No one spoke; the place and the silence were oppressive and unsettling.

(End of this chapter)