I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 221 High Tide

The Sphinx's answer surprised Dumbledore, who was standing nearby.

Then his blue eyes looked at it meaningfully.

Nod slightly towards it.

No one knew better than him how alluring power was to a wizard.

On the path of magic, the more talented a wizard is, the more easily they are led astray.

For most wizards, magic is simply waving a wand and chanting a few spells.

Only a very few exceptionally gifted wizards truly understand the essence of magic and what powerful magical energy will bring them.

If such a powerful force is left unchecked, it could very well bring disaster and destruction.

Voldemort is a good example.

Especially when he discovered that he was a descendant of Salazar Slaterlin, his sense of uniqueness and his ambition to be one of a kind began to swell wildly.

He always considered himself superior to others, and his arrogance was always ingrained in his heart. Even in Hogwarts Castle, when facing those professors, although the young Riddle hid it well, Dumbledore could still see that his self-centeredness and disregard for the feelings of others were filled with dust.

He even believed himself to be a god at the very end.

And Kyrie Irving now seems to be showing this trend.

Ancient magic is even more precious and terrifying than Salazar's bloodline.

If he were to become as indifferent to those around him as Voldemort, with no attachments in his heart, one can only imagine what a terrifying wizard the future magical world would have to offer.

However, based on the current situation, this child is different from Riddle.

Although he lost his parents, he has a complete family.

He lost the love from his parents, but gained the love from others.

He has his own friends, knows what love is, and understands the meaning of life.

Even if he didn't say it, Dumbledore knew.

In Irving's heart, how much weight does Grindelwald, the man who brought him out of the orphanage, hold?

He has relatives; from the very beginning, he had a powerful maternal grandfather, didn't he?

As he thought this, a smile crept onto Dumbledore's lips.

So many years have passed.

He had long since let go of the conflict between him and Grindelwald.

Now, his only gratitude is that Grindelwald guided the child who needed guidance at the right time, leading him onto the right path instead of instilling in him the dross ideas of wizards and Muggles.

What pleased him most was Irving's handling of Lupin's situation.

He traveled through time and ultimately saved Lupin.

This was not something he should have done in the first place.

Yes, no one would criticize a thirteen or fourteen-year-old child, even if Owen did not choose to go back to the past, but simply stayed in the castle.

He wouldn't say anything.

But Irving went back.

He did his best to save two innocent lives, although the final result was not solely due to his efforts.

But—the important thing is the choice.

Dumbledore looked at Owen through his glasses with a look of satisfaction and wisdom.

Even if we are stuck in a quagmire, surrounded by mud, we still have a choice: to be a good person.

Of course, no one in this world is perfect.

Even for him, the pain of the past still torments him, but at least—at least for the current Irving, he is satisfied.

He has done the best he could at his age and with his current strength.

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.

Behind the gate, the figures of the departing crowd could be seen.

The enormous, beautiful head of the Sphinx watched them leave.

Then she slowly lay down again, closed her eyes, and fell asleep once more.

Meanwhile, on the other side, everyone seemed to have entered some kind of divine realm.

As far as the eye can see, there are huge marble sculptures and openwork metal patterns all around.

The hall they were in resembled a flower bud, its petals woven from openwork metal, with an endless expanse of nebulae overhead. The heart of the flower was a single, deep blue gemstone.

The Milky Way was spinning overhead.

As they walked, the gems beneath their feet began to shimmer with starlight.

"Oh my God!" Hermione exclaimed.

She discovered that the starlight did not dissipate, but instead penetrated directly into the gemstone floor.

Then, these points converged and eventually formed another part of the Milky Way.

It was so magnificent and dazzling that words could not describe it.

It resembles Zeus's Olympic Temple.

"Where am I?!" Harry stared blankly at the floor, his mind filled with shock.

Such a magical place is rare even at Hogwarts.

Before discovering the Room of Requirement, Harry had never seen a place more magical than what he could currently imagine.

"Someone will explain it to us," the old principal said with a slight smile.

Following his gaze, Irving looked ahead and saw a mirror directly in front of them.

It is simple, luxurious, and elegant, much like the Mirror of Erised in the castle.

But it is even taller than the Mirror of Eris, standing at about ten feet (four meters).

Similarly, it is covered with ancient runes.

The old principal looked at Irving.

He immediately understood.

Holding his wand, Owen slowly walked forward.

With a wand imbued with a trace of ancient magic, he gently tapped the mirror.

Suddenly, the blurry mirror surface lit up with a warm light, and then all the dust and grime, of unknown origin, disappeared.

"Oh! Someone else is here?"

It was a rather old voice.

"Let me see who it is."

Then an old wizard appeared in the mirror.

"Principal Dexter?"

Irving was quite surprised because he actually saw an acquaintance there.

He had seen the principal's portrait in the principal's office.

He was placed on the far right, near the dome.

The material used to create his portrait was not the common British oak, but a European tree species, an extinct species.

He was a very old wizard, with a snow-white beard and a face full of wrinkles that made him look at least 150 years old.

His face was handsome yet thin, and his gray hair and slightly hunched back all testified to the cruel marks left by time.

He wore an exquisite magic robe, unlike modern robes. The style of the robe, engraved with complex ancient runes, was definitely not a product of modern times, or even the last few hundred years.

This is a very precious magical item.

Irving had only ever seen clothes like that in Nick's closet.

That's at least a thousand years of history.

Irving estimates that he was one of the first principals when the school was founded.

"Oh! It really is you?"

Principal Dexter's cloudy eyes suddenly lit up.

He looked somewhat excited, and his eyes couldn't help but reveal a sense of pride.

"I knew it! We Hufflepuffs are the best. Very good, you're very good."

"0.0"

Principal, we can say this in private.

He shouldn't have spoken in front of a bunch of Gryffindors!

"Oh! Albus, you found this place too? I knew you'd find it."

At this moment, Principal Dexter finally reached the elderly man with the same white beard behind Owen. A deep smile flashed in his eyes, and then he said gently, "We've been discussing that if you possess that kind of talent, you would definitely be the best candidate."

"But sometimes fate is unpredictable, and in the end, it doesn't choose you. That makes me feel regretful."

"I'm so glad it didn't choose me," the old headmaster said calmly.

Behind those crescent-shaped glasses lies wisdom accumulated over countless years.

"I know what kind of person I am, and I don't have that kind of talent, which is a good thing."

He felt incredibly fortunate to think so.

I feel incredibly fortunate.

Because if he had discovered his talent for ancient magic at Owen's age, it's hard to believe he would have been able to come to his senses later.

Perhaps, lured by power, he will go even deeper until he can no longer break free.

"Yes! You truly deserve the title of Hogwarts' greatest headmaster."

"Even Helga Hufflepuff has not demonstrated the kind of influence you have."

"Ms. Helga Hufflepuff?" The old headmaster was taken aback.

Even he himself didn't know which era the wizards from which these ancient portraits of the headmasters were left behind.

Because Hogwarts only has a clearly documented headmaster starting more than 1,300 years later.

For the previous four hundred years, they did not record the history of that time.

All he knew was that this ancient headmaster did indeed belong to Hogwarts.

"I believe there is still a significant gap between me and the founder."

He said modestly.

"No, quite the opposite," Principal Dexter smiled slightly.

"My student days were during the time of Helga Hufflepuff, the second headmistress of Hogwarts."

After the death of Rowena Ravenclaw, the first headmistress of Hogwarts, Helga Hufflepuff became the headmistress. She left a deep Hufflepuff mark on Hogwarts. It can be said that the reason why Hogwarts did not fall apart and continued to practice the ideals of the four founders was largely due to the efforts of Helga Hufflepuff.

The fact that Hogwarts is so inclusive and progressive today, even after being ravaged by that idiot Black (Headmaster Black, the remnant headmaster of Hogwarts, considered by students to be the most disliked headmaster in a century), and still thrives, is all thanks to Helga Hufflepuff.

"You know, if either Salazar or Godric were to become headmaster, Hogwarts would descend into chaos."

In her later years, Lady Helga Hufflepuff struggled to ease the conflict between the four Houses, which saddened her greatly, as it remains unresolved to this day. And you, Albus, I see hope in you. If it weren't for that Salazar descendant, you might truly have fulfilled Lady Helga Hufflepuff's dying wish.

Principal Dexter slowly recounted a story from over a thousand years ago.

That story was full of energy and conflict.

"I'm trying to make Hogwarts better," the old headmaster said calmly.

"That's enough," Principal Dexter said approvingly, his face, etched with the marks of time, beaming with a childlike smile.

"Oh! As people get older, they like to reminisce about the past." With that, he turned his gaze back to Owen.

"You might be wondering what kind of place this is."

".0, just a little bit," Owen replied, tilting his head back.

Principal Dexter smiled, dismissing Owen's little mischief, and then continued, "You can call this place the Divine Tower."

"A divinely inspired tower?"

"Yes," Principal Dexter explained slowly, "In the past, after a dark war, the surviving ancient wizards built such towers to select successors who could continue to ward off darkness."

"The fierce battle many years ago did not completely kill that evil sorcerer who claimed to be an Outer God, but merely banished his soul from the material world we live in."

Even in the shadows, darkness still lurks.

This divinely inspired tower is both a place for passing on the exquisite magic of ancient wizards and a connecting station for communicating with the spiritual world of the outer realms.

"Connecting station?" Owen muttered to himself, somewhat confused about what it meant.

Connect to what? Connect to an outer domain?

If we've already driven away the external gods, why do we still need to build this so-called connection station?

Are you afraid that guy won't come back?

"Initially, the wizards hoped to use these towers to launch a counterattack in the spiritual realm and completely kill that evil god. But—"

"."

Got it!

It's obvious what happened next; after all, we're human!

Internal strife is a daily occurrence!

Those who don't fight amongst themselves aren't truly human.

"So what do I have to do?" Irving asked.

"All you need to do is defeat the tentacles of evil from beyond the realm."

Although the Outer Gods cannot enter this universe, the minions of the God-gi can. They provide the God-gi with souls day after day, and every so often, the God-gi's power grows strong enough to infiltrate the Tower of Gods.

At this point, someone is needed to sever the tentacles of darkness.

This is the responsibility of each generation of ancient magic heirs.

Such a battle can only be faced by you alone; a wizard who has not gained the approval of the ancient gods cannot cross the other side of the fog.

Principal Dexter spoke softly.

The truth revealed by his words also filled in some of the gaps in the information that Teacher Chiron had given him.

After all, the two lived in different eras, separated by thousands of years.

Time always progresses in a spiral, and what happened back then is completely different from what we see today.

"So, it's high tide again?" Irving asked.

He had no intention of escaping the fate imposed upon him.

Teacher Chiron is right. If it weren't for that Outer God, he wouldn't have been born. A part of his soul belongs to the Outer God.

He was destined to take this path from the very beginning.

Since we can't get rid of it, we might as well learn to enjoy it.

At least, great adventures have always been what he pursued, haven't they?

"High tide?" Principal Dexter paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Yes, it's high tide again."

It's my birthday today, but I went out for a meal and was delayed, so I took a break.

(End of this chapter)