I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 245 The traditions of the British Empire, I think you should know that.

"That's why we hold the World Cup, and in part, the semi-finals."

My dear Miss Granger.

He said this while taking big bites of the pie in his hand.

This little thing is really hard to bite.

The meat wasn't cooked tender enough; it was very chewy.

It might be the flesh and blood of some kind of magical animal.

Dumbledore used it to help them grow? (laughs)

On the other side, Hannah was taking small bites of the mashed potatoes in front of her.

After quickly feeding it a few bites, she picked up Sirocco and began to groom its fur.

He did not participate in the conversation between Owen and Hermione from beginning to end.

—She was behaving strangely.

It's a bit too quiet.

There was always a hint of sorrow between his brows.

In a daze, Owen recalled that Hannah hadn't smiled since he saw her at the World Cup.

"Meow!"

The lazy kitten lay comfortably on her lap, stretching.

Hannah had fluffed up the mane around its neck.

Unexpectedly, golden, lightning-like rays of light will sometimes dance across its neck.

This wretched little fellow, who eats and sleeps all the time, has forgotten who his real master is.

"What do you mean?" Hermione's brows furrowed slightly.

Perhaps it was Irving's imagination.

This time, it seems she used Harry's hair-curling product correctly.

Her hair obediently followed the contours of her face, while the hair at the back was braided, passed through her ears, and tied up.

"I mean, if the British wizarding community continues to be so anxious and depressed, then people really are going to starve to death."

Irving looked up and finally pulled his head away from the plate in front of him.

He could only give today's meal a 7 out of 10.

The little sprite's mastery of new ingredients is still too low.

"You'd better learn a little political economy, Miss Granger! How will you be able to be a good Minister of Magic if you don't know this?"

He sighed: "You still have so much to learn!"

"I know!" Hermione said impatiently. "So, could the brilliant Mr. Owen—Sanchez—um—Rozier please explain?"

"Of course, Miss Granger, I'm always happy to help."

Irving rested one hand on the table, leaning back to make himself more comfortable. "Besides easing domestic tensions, the biggest use of the World Cup is to stimulate economic recovery."

What do you think will happen if a country with fewer than tens of thousands of wizards suddenly gains 100,000 consumers?

"The sports game is over, so why didn't the Ministry of Magic rush to send those wizards home? Instead, they continued to station people there to provide services to wizards from various countries. Is it because Barty Crouch is so charitable?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow upon hearing this. Owen's words were so simple, yet she instantly connected many ideas to them.

"This is England, England!"

"When the British Empire colonized the world, did it hope to have an Indian prime minister?"

"For gold, of course! Gold! And fucking gold!"

Owen rubbed his head and looked at her face. "A World Cup, fed all of Britain, what a great deal."

Anyway, the Ministry of Magic's employees can be squeezed even more, and the cost of hosting the games is practically nonexistent. If I were the Minister, I'd be thrilled to have the World Cup every day!

"As for the third-to-fourth qualifying round?"

"If the World Cup is about the economy, then the semi-finals are purely a political alliance."

"A political alliance?" A thought flashed through Hermione's mind, and in an instant, her vision was opened.

"Europeans have always sought to build a Europe that belongs to Europeans. The magical world is no exception. In fact, the unification of the European magical world predates that of the Muggle world. When Merlin traveled across Europe to spread his teachings, that group was already seeking political unity."

Why did Dumbledore convene the Four-Way Battle during the most dangerous and turbulent time in England?

"To unite them?" Hermione's eyes gleamed; she suddenly understood Dumbledore's intention.

"That's too polite, Miss Granger," Owen smiled. "I'd rather call it, dragging them down with me!"

"Once everyone becomes Voldemort's enemy, then everyone automatically becomes his friend—his comrade-in-arms—his strongest support. This is a diplomatic tactic of the British Empire for over a century, old Humphry, and even I, a Frenchman, saw it at a glance. How could you, a pure London native, have been pondering this for so long?"

I assumed you were aware of this British imperial tradition.

"."

The girl rolled her eyes; she thought Owen's words were too harsh.

And—what exactly is meant by London Native?

Aren't you a native of Paris?

"Hey! I know you're probably thinking I'm a Parisian native, right!" Owen suddenly smiled and looked at her flirtatiously. "My mother was born in Denmark—or Norway—or some other Nordic country, but definitely not France, so I'm not as pure as you."

"Boring!" Hermione turned her head, and after a moment, as if she had suppressed her inner thoughts, she turned her head back. "According to you, does that mean something bad is bound to happen this year?"

Did Dumbledore deliberately—bring them here—to drag them into this mess?

"Something's definitely going to happen," Irving nodded.

He still doesn't know whether that Moody is actually Barty Crouch Jr. in disguise.

Will Voldemort, like in the original books, make Harry one of the Hogwarts heroes and then find an opportunity to take him out of Hogwarts?

But one thing is certain: he will not miss this grand event.

There must be some conspiracy brewing.

But so much has changed; the old stories are no longer relevant to Owen. He can't even guess what Voldemort is up to now.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked seriously.

"Of course—it's not hard to guess, it's practically a sure thing."

"That—" The little witch's mind was in chaos, and a sense of impending crisis spread through her heart.

Danger itself is not scary; what is scary is the unknown.

The scariest thing is that you never know from which corner your enemy will extend their fangs.

"We must prepare early!" she suddenly stood up.

"Are you starting to roll it up?" Owen glanced at Miss Granger's pocket. "That lava behemoth you created during the world war looked pretty good, but the conventional spells have already reached their limit for that!"

"Want to try some unconventional spells?" he tempted. "Don't worry, it's definitely not dark magic, or even if it were, it wouldn't affect your mind. Want to learn?"

I'll teach you!

Of course—learning requires payment, and since it's the start of the new semester, Sanchez's tutoring center is having a discount promotion, just—"

"Stop!" Hermione called out to him quickly, then glanced at Owen with disdain. "I already told you, I don't have many Galleons left."

"That's your problem! I don't care. This isn't over until you return my royalties!"

"You already have 20,000—"

"Oh! Now you're thinking about my twenty thousand? One thing at a time! Unless...?" Owen suddenly changed his tone, a sly expression appearing on his face, "Work for me, Miss Granger!"

"Huh?" Hermione stared blankly at Owen, not understanding what crazy thing he was doing again.

"By now, you should have almost mastered French in order to access those alchemical texts!"

"It's alright—reading and writing are fine. You don't mean you want me to continue translating 'Ancient Alchemy Unveiled' for you, do you?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Fifty Galleons per volume!"

"make a deal!"

"?" Owen looked at Hermione. She agreed so quickly?

I always feel like I've been taken advantage of.

"Don't be too happy yet. You first need to write and translate four—no—five volumes as compensation for my royalties!"

"No problem!" This time, Hermione agreed even faster than before, as if afraid that Owen would change his mind!

"."

Owen looked at the little witch with disdain. "Is it really that big of a deal? It's just Nicolas Flamel's manuscript. Is there any reason to be so excited?"

"Heh—" The little witch gave her another disdainful look, "It's just 'Niccolò Flamel's Manuscript,' 'Is it really that serious?'—Do you know how much you deserve a beating right now!"

"Come on! Do it! Don't hold back."

"Stop!" To prevent this guy from continuing his madness, Hermione quickly stopped him. "By the way, I suddenly think that 'House-Elf Rights Promotion Association' you just mentioned is pretty good."

I'm ready—"

?

"Didn't you just say you didn't have that idea?"

"That was just now!" Hermione said seriously. "And—didn't you say that? Will I bring this up in the next chapter?"

The next chapter has already started!

"Wardfa?"

------

Listening to the noise around me.

Hannah didn't say a word.

She would only occasionally look up at Owen and Hermione.

He stroked Sirocco's head with his hand, and the strokes gradually slowed down.

The conversation between the two.

What politics, what economics, what conspiracies, what alchemy, what French?

She couldn't understand anything.

In the past few years, she would have chosen to compete with Hermione, but now, Hannah suddenly feels fortunate that she doesn't know much.

I'm also glad I didn't get involved.

Upon hearing Owen's words about what other conspiracies might be lurking around Hogwarts this year...

The three people reacted very differently.

The boy looked completely indifferent, as if he were casually discussing what he wanted to eat for lunch.

The girl with the fluffy hair had a serious expression on her face. There was no fear in her eyes, but rather a hint of excitement.

Only she herself felt a stiffness in her hand as she stroked Sirocco's head.

Perhaps she looked down at the kitten.

It's time to find it a new owner.

--------

I've had breakfast.

The group traveled together.

After walking through the damp vegetable garden, we arrived at Greenhouse No. 3.

Hannah placed Sirocco on the grass outside the greenhouse before going inside. Cats are like that! They're bursting with curiosity and want to try everything. There are many poisonous plants in the greenhouse, so she couldn't let him in.

To be fair, while Irving might not be the best owner, he always manages to find the right people to care for them.

During the summer vacation, the two little guys were taken care of by Dobi. After school started, Hannah was in charge of feeding Sirocco. As for Bakal, that stubborn giant who was actually quite honest, he had already prepared all the food.

The Third Greenhouse is perhaps the largest classroom at Hogwarts.

It's a whole size bigger than the auditorium.

Because it is actually composed of several parts, you can distinguish them by the glass ceiling.

Although the young wizards always call it the Greenhouse, it is actually a place name, not a classroom. It refers to a large area of ​​steel buildings beyond the clock towers.

The largest classroom in this area is where the young wizards have their lessons.

Walk down the steps (one-third of the classroom is below ground level for insulation).

Facing us was a long, huge table, filled with all sorts of soil-filled boxes in square wooden crates.

Each one has different nutrients, all carefully formulated by Professor Sprout.

One side and the ceiling above were entirely covered in glass, except for the Gothic pillars, while the other side was filled with all sorts of magical plants, the most eye-catching of which were devil vines, which reproduced too quickly.

The professor had to prune it every day.

Upon entering, many young wizards frowned as soon as they took their first breath of the greenhouse air.

Because the classroom smelled of gasoline everywhere.

Reluctantly, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff wizards lined up in two rows around the long table.

At this moment, Professor Spright, still wearing a tattered robe covered in mud and dew, makes his appearance.

"Oh! I'm so glad to see you all looking so energetic."

It must be the World Cup that's causing Professor Sprout great concern for the young wizards.

Because Irving saw a copy of the Daily Prophet under a flowerpot on a table in the corner behind the professor.

The front-page photo is of Miss Granger.

She was holding the spell, her face grave, and maintaining the lava behemoth.

"Today we're going to learn about a new magical plant."

Her gaze automatically blocked out Irving.

This shameless boy has made her feel utterly ashamed within the dean's circle.

As he spoke, the professor waved his wand, and the soil in the square wooden boxes on the long table in front of the young wizard began to float and rearrange itself.

Then, the wooden box fell back down, and the little wizard saw something ugly he had never seen before.

In reality, those things didn't look like plants at all; they were more like big, black, sticky slugs that emerged straight out of the soil.

Moreover, they were all wriggling slightly, and their bodies had many shiny bulges that seemed to be filled with liquid.

"Disgusting" is an understatement to describe this thing.

It should be said that it has reached some kind of indescribable bottom.

"Babbo tuber," Professor Sprout cheerfully told everyone, "you need to squeeze it by hand to collect its pus."

"What?" Simon Finigan asked with a tone of disgust.

"Pus, fenigan, pus," Professor Sprout said. "It has extremely high value, so don't waste it. Listen, you must collect the pus into these bottles. Wear your dragon-skin gloves; undiluted baboon tuber pus can cause unusual damage to the skin."

The process of squeezing out tubers is disgusting, yet it also produces a strange sense of satisfaction.

Every time a bulge was popped, it would spray out a large amount of viscous, yellowish-green liquid, emitting a pungent gasoline smell—Irving finally knew where the gasoline smell in the greenhouse came from.

Following Professor Sprout's instructions, they collected the liquid in bottles, and by the time get out of class was almost over, they had collected several bottles.

"Ms. Pomfrey will be pleased now," Professor Sprout said, plugging the last bottle. "The pus from the babo tuber is the best medicine for treating stubborn acne. This will stop students from using drastic methods to remove their pimples."

Acne?

Over at Gryffindor, Hermione's eyes lit up as she looked at the pus in her hand, wondering if she should ask the professor for a bottle.

Yes, as we all know, staying up late is very bad for your skin.

Especially after they enter puberty, they will occasionally get a few pimples on their faces.

Fortunately, she and that awful guy weren't in the same college, so they didn't run into each other every day, otherwise he would definitely laugh at her.

Hermione could probably guess what Owen would say.

"Oh my god! You must be a fake wizard, Miss Granger. After all, you can't even get rid of the pimples on your own face."

Yes, he'll definitely say that.

The real Owen, too, looked at the contents of the bottle in his hand with shining eyes. He had already begun to arrange and combine potion recipes in his mind. A acne-removing toner was definitely a good idea to make money.

hoo hoo hoo!

Hogwarts is a wonderful place.

There are new ways to make money every day.

"Oh! The professor is talking about Eloise Midgen." Just then Justin came over, and the group squeezed through the crowd to get together.

"Ask Hannah; she saw it with her own eyes."

"What happened?" Owen turned to look at Hannah.

"Midgen, she was planning to use a vanishing charm to get rid of the pimples on her face yesterday!"

"."

"Awesome!" Owen gave a thumbs up, explaining why Hufflepuff was missing so many people today.

"And then? Is she still thinking?"

"Yes, she is." Hannah sighed, her tone flat. "She made her nose disappear, and she bled a lot. Everyone else is trying to help make her nose back, but it's no use."

"Nonsense, the Vanishing Charm breaks down objects into tiny dust particles, allowing them to return to nature, not transferring them to another place!" Owen shook his head and left the greenhouse with the young wizard.

He saw Hermione stay behind and talk to Professor Sprout.

"It's incredibly lucky she didn't lose her head!"

Step out of the greenhouse.

Hufflepuff parted ways with Gryffindor.

Harry and his friends are going to have Potions class with the Slytherins, which is taught by Snape.

Another grudge game

And they were to have their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year with the Ravenclaws.

Nothing happened at lunch.

Everyone was relaxed; after all, it was the first day of school.

But there are some exceptions.

Generally speaking, Irving will choose to have lunch and then take a nap, you know—a guy like him who's always thinking about all sorts of crazy things takes the most brainpower.

If I don't sleep at noon, I can't even keep my eyes open in the afternoon.

But a certain guy who also overused his brain was different.

Miss Granger seems to have regained the form she had a few months ago.

They began to embark on a massive, unbridled involutionary endeavor on their own.

(End of this chapter)