I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 260 Oh, you're in a meeting!

"Godric Gryffindor," Hermione said.

"???"

"Huh?" Owen stumbled, his left hand, which had been resting on the handrail, lost its grip, and he staggered a few steps towards the covered bridge. After regaining his balance, he immediately turned around and asked, "What did you say?"

"I said!" Hermione took a deep breath, looked at Owen, and then said, word by word, "I-accepted-the-trials-of-Gran-Findor."

"Holy crap!" Owen looked Hermione up and down, his eyes filled with disbelief. "This—"

Does repeating a lie a thousand times make it the truth?

"What Gryffindor? What trials? What are you talking about!" Granger's two accessories asked anxiously.

They were scratching their heads, their intense curiosity overflowing.

Owen, however, looked at Hermione with utmost seriousness. After confirming that the girl wasn't lying to him, he explained, "Alright, I won't go into how you got the password to the headmaster's office, but—that Gryffindor sword on his bookshelf is just a decoration; the real sword isn't there?"

"Isn't Dumbledore's password the easiest to guess?" Hermione clicked her tongue. "So where's the real one?"

"In a place you'll never find unless I tell you." Owen regained his footing. "Come with me." Then, he reached out and grabbed Hermione's arm.

The two ran towards the castle, one after the other.

"Wait a moment!"

Behind them, the heart-wrenching questions continued to rise and fall.

"So what exactly is the test?"

"What Gryffindor sword?"

"Is Hermione really the heir to Gryffindor?"

"Oh my god! Tell us!"

Unfortunately, the two of them ultimately failed to catch up.

Owen pulled Hermione along quickly through the corridor.

The young wizards from Hogwarts were used to it. But the young wizards from other schools were giving them sidelong glances.

Miss Granger followed behind him.

Her hair, which she had just smoothed out, had become disheveled again.

The air was filled with a special rose fragrance.

The castle, which was clearly in the depths of winter, suddenly burst into springtime colors.

She lowered her head and silently followed behind Owen. The two of them climbed the stone steps together, passed through two oak doors, and followed the marble spiral staircase that they had walked through countless memories of the past.

For some reason, she suddenly had the idea of ​​casting an infinite extension spell on the stone steps, perhaps to extend their journey.

Five minutes later.

Everything has an end, and they arrived at a corridor on the third floor.

As Owen walked past the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, he noticed that Moody had removed the wooden leg from his limb. A brand-new metal prosthetic limb sat beside his desk.

He is changing.

yeah?

Cyberpunk?

Owen was slightly surprised, but he did not stop. Soon, a huge, hideous stone monster appeared in their field of vision.

"Lemon ice cream!" he said confidently.

But the stone monster didn't react at all.

"Hmm? The password?" He then turned to look at Miss Granger behind him. "Hey! The password!"

"Bloody Lollipop!"

Hermione blushed, stammered, and spoke in a very soft voice.

"?"

"No response?" Owen stared at the stone monster.

Unfortunately, even with the new password, it still didn't react at all.

"This—" At this moment, Miss Granger finally came to her senses. She lifted her gaze from the soles of her feet and looked at the stone monster in front of her with a puzzled expression. "Just a few days ago..."

"Old Deng must have changed the password again!" Owen said confidently, resting his chin on his hand, pursing his lips, and rolling his eyes.

What will Old Deng use as the new password?

Lost in thought, he paid no attention to the fact that he was still holding Miss Granger's arm.

"When did you sneak into the principal's office?"

"Me?" Hermione felt a little embarrassed upon hearing this, as her secret of breaking into the principal's office a few days ago was about to be exposed.

This—this made her a little embarrassed.

The image of a model Hogwarts student that she had cultivated for so long always crumbled in front of this guy.

“A few days ago,” Miss Granger stammered, “when wizards from other schools hadn’t arrived at Hogwarts yet.”

"So that means he changed the password after that person arrived?" Owen's eyes lit up. "Then the answer is obvious."

He tilted his head back, a confident smile on his face.

He winked at Hermione, then looked up and said, "Godric's Hollow!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the monster suddenly came to life, leaped to the side, and the wall behind it split in two. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase, slowly moving upwards like an escalator.

"Oh! I knew it, I knew it, it was so easy to guess." With that, he and Hermione stepped onto it together.

Then, a loud crash was heard from behind, and the wall slammed shut again.

"Why is the password Godric's Hollow?" Hermione couldn't help but ask as the stairs spiraled higher and higher. "Isn't that Harry's house?"

"You don't understand," Owen said, blinking. "Lots of interesting things happen in that valley."

"The love-hate relationship between the former principal."

I'll tell you about it when I have time.

Watching the boy rise higher and higher before her, Hermione whispered, in a voice only she could hear, "Okay!"

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.

At the end of the stairs, they saw a gleaming oak door with a brass door knocker in the shape of a griffin.

Without saying a word, Irving pushed open the door and went in.

Realizing what was happening, Hermione initially wanted to stop him; she should have knocked first, no matter what.

"Albus, regarding North America, Evamoni is on the verge of spiraling out of control. The Deadborn and the Purifiers are becoming increasingly rampant, but the Magic Council is focusing all its energy on archaeological excavations of ancient ruins."

Queenie was forced to return to the Magical Congress, and now there are too few wizards on our side.

Ms. Yulari's voice was particularly grating in the principal's office.

Her voice was full of worry; some things were beyond her control.

"There is one more thing, which is very important, I..."

"Ahem!" Just as Ms. Euryale was about to continue speaking, Dumbledore suddenly coughed lightly. "We have guests."

After saying that, the oak door to the principal's office was pushed open.

Then Irving rushed in headfirst.

"Good morning, school principals!" he said casually. "Oh, you're in a meeting!"

As he spoke, Irving walked toward the shelf leaning against the corner of the wall.

Feeling free and at ease, as if I were back home.

The Sorting Hat seemed to be dozing off; the hat was bobbing up and down, suggesting that his breathing was quite steady.

"Good morning, Professor." Hermione stood awkwardly beside the table in the room, which was filled with all sorts of shiny silverware.

In the office, the three principals, along with Grindelwald, were present. The professors' eyes fell on her the moment she entered the office.

The sudden surge of pressure made her speech incoherent.

Especially Dumbledore—the headmaster looked at her strangely.

That ambiguous smile left her somewhat at a loss.

"Professor!" At that moment, Owen, who had walked to the bookshelf, reached out and grabbed the Sorting Hat, then turned and walked away. "Can I borrow the hat?"

Regardless of whether Old Deng agreed or not, he had already turned around and was about to lead Hermione away.

"Take it!" said the two when they returned to the oak door.

Dumbledore's voice came through just then. "Oh! By the way, Miss Granger."

Suddenly he called on Hermione's name, "When are you going to return my ornaments? Without that sword, my bookshelf looks empty."

"Uh—Professor." Miss Granger, who had already stepped out of the office, stumbled and stopped, then turned back to Dumbledore with an expression more like a grimace. "Professor—you—you know."

"Oh! Don't the young wizards say I know everything?" the old headmaster joked. "Actually, I just have a lot of eyes and ears."

He stood up from his chair.

He wore a gorgeous and colorful outfit, full of mysterious, ancient and powerful symbols. With a flick of his sleeve, several fruits of some unknown plant appeared in his palm. He then presented them to Phoenix Fox.

The phoenix, shimmering with light, lowered its head, pecked at the fruit in his hand, and then swallowed it whole.

"I understand," Miss Granger understood immediately.

It was the phoenix that told Dumbledore about her sneaking into the office.

"Professor—you—will you fire me?" Hermione asked cautiously.

They broke into the principal's office and stole an important treasure.

Let alone a magic school, even a Muggle school would not only expel such an organization, but would also hand it over to the police.

Therefore, Hermione could completely understand if Dumbledore were to expel her because of this.

"Oh! No—of course not." Dumbledore leaned against the corner of the table and said kindly, "I understand that young wizards have an adventurous spirit. But what I want to say is that if you find anything strange in the castle, you should tell the headmaster, right?"

"This..." Hermione understood; the old headmaster was blaming them for not telling him about the underground chamber.

But—that new alchemy professor must have been sent by him, how could he not know?

"I hope to hear the whole story from you, do you understand?" the old principal continued. "I hope you will always remember that you have many professors behind you, and never face danger alone."

"Yes, Professor. I understand." Miss Granger lowered her eyes and nodded. Considering the dangers they had experienced over the years, each time they seemed to assume that Dumbledore definitely knew, but never once did they think of telling him in advance.

Such students are generally a bit of a headache.

"Professor, I... I'll bring you the Gryffindor sword right away—the one from that night."

She buried her head in her fluffy hair.

The shame prevented her from looking up and meeting the principal's gaze.

As for Irving—oh! He's thick-skinned, he'll be fine.

He could even shamelessly look back at the office setup and make jokes without any restraint.

"Are the four of you having a meeting?"

His gaze swept across the faces of Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Euryale Hicks, and Orim Maxim.

"Aren't you all weird?"

"So you really are magnanimous, forgiving and forgiving, huh?"

He grinned and gave a thumbs-up to all the wizards in the room: "As expected of a legendary wizard standing at the top of the wizarding pyramid, those pectoral muscles—that magnanimity is something a young wizard should learn from for a lifetime."

"Oh—there's one more thing."

"Hmm?" In the room, Grindelwald suddenly turned his head, his heterochromatic eyes and expressionless as he looked at Owen.

"Alright! You guys talk." With that, he turned and grabbed Hermione, and they ran off.

Hehe—it's so exciting to keep teetering on the edge of getting beaten up!

The noise outside the principal's office gradually faded away.

The four bigwigs in the office relaxed their tense expressions.

"Heh heh—this child is a bit mischievous," Dumbledore said calmly.

Looking at his serious expression, it was as if nothing had just happened.

"Professor Yullari, please continue."

Yullari, whose train of thought had been interrupted, took a deep breath and forced herself not to look at Mr. Grindelwald, who was sitting in a chair to the side with his eyes closed, resting.

The child is right.

It was indeed very strange that they were having a meeting together.

Who could have imagined that one day former mortal enemies would sit together and be forced to fight against an even more powerful foe?

After a moment, Professor Euryale, having composed herself, continued, "Seventeen years ago, the Magical Congress discovered a mysterious ancient wizarding site in New Mexico."

Her voice was heavy and serious.

This made the office, which had just relaxed, tense up again.

On the wall, the portraits of the principal who had been pretending to be asleep also opened their eyes sporadically, pricking up their ears to listen to the secrets she was about to tell.

"Albus." She looked up, her brow furrowed. "This is a story about a man called 'The Successor'."

"Regarding ancient magic, it is a gift from the gods."

"Huh?" The old headmaster was surprised for a second. He glanced at Grindelwald, who looked indifferent to the side, and found that the other had already opened his eyes.

"In ancient times." Professor Euryale seemed unaware that a smile was gradually spreading across Dumbledore's face.

She spent a long time explaining the relationship between ancient wizards, sorcerers, and gods, and told the other three that there existed a magical power in this world that could only be observed by specific wizards. The wizards who mastered that power would become the successors of the ancient gods, known as Heirs.

And that person will take on the responsibility of protecting the world.

In short, she said a lot, and much of what she said was incoherent.

Because the ancient ruins were severely damaged, the Magic Council could only piece together fragmented information and then fill in the gaps in their imagination to create a story.

"The Purifiers have seriously threatened Iphamoni's safety in their struggle for the succession."

"Wait a minute." After listening for a long time, Dumbledore finally spoke, "You mean, that child, Koyatl Stewart, she can see traces of ancient magic?"

"Yes, only she can see it. It's a mysterious magic that can increase the power of a wizard's spells and also allows her to inherit many ancient spells that have been lost in modern times," Professor Yullari said worriedly.

"So, I mean, after she arrived at Hogwarts, was there that kind of ancient magic in the castle you mentioned?" Dumbledore continued to inquire.

"That—she didn't say that," Professor Yullari replied. "Ancient magic is quite rare; the Magic Congress has only discovered one location in New Mexico so far."

Professor Yullari finished speaking.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a glance.

They saw confusion in the other person's eyes.

In fact, quite the opposite is true; ancient magic is found all over the world.

Ancient magic, inherited from those who claimed to be gods, exists in almost every region where legends of gods exist.

That makes sense, since gods are everywhere.

Then the girl Professor Yullari mentioned—that's a bit troublesome.

If what she saw wasn't ancient magic, then after all, the Magic Congress had never come into contact with real ancient magic.

What did she see?

This is what Dumbledore was worried about.

In the magical world, if you discover something that only you can see, it's generally not a good sign.

"Gellert" Dumbledore frowned as he looked at Grindelwald.

He had a premonition that the girl harbored a great secret. It wasn't ancient magic, but something else, a much darker secret.

Grindelwald, who had been deep in thought on a chair to the side, opened his eyes.

He held in his hands a skull-shaped hookah, about the size of a palm.

Smoke constantly lingered around his mouth.

At the tail of the skull is a long straw made of snakeskin.

He exhaled.

A plume of smoke, resembling water vapor, slowly rose up.

Then, the smoke in the sky solidified from nothingness, just like the scene in the Pensieve.

A sea of ​​thorny flowers appeared above the office.

Amidst that sea of ​​flowers, a person was kneeling.

It was blurry, but you could vaguely make out that it was a person.

At this moment, Grindelwald finally spoke, "Leave the ancient magic to Victor; he and everyone else understand this kind of magic."

"As for the purgers you mentioned?"

The Dark Lord looked down at Professor Euryale and said, "Let them come!"

"That saves us the trouble of searching for them one by one."

The Purgers were the most fanatical group of dark wizards in North America.

Prior to 1693, there were no wizarding government institutions on that continent, nor was the Magical Congress established.

At that time, many black wizards who were suppressed in Europe flocked to this land.

That vibrant scene of life and everything thriving is still vivid in my mind.

After the Salem witch trials in 1693, the National Wizarding Union could no longer tolerate the black wizards' arbitrary manipulation of Muggles. With strong support from Europe, representatives from many North American Magical Cube communities were elected to jointly draft laws, and the Magical Congress of the United States was soon established.

Their first task was to arrest and execute the Purifiers who had betrayed their own kind.

But this was no easy task. In fact, the initial Magical Council was severely understaffed, starting with only twelve Aurors. (One of them was Harry's ancestor, Abraham Potter.)

Of these twelve Aurors, only two lived to old age.

One can imagine how brutal the war was back then.

The battle between the Purifiers and their descendants has never ceased on the North American continent.

It could be said that they were not much better than the Death Eaters.

Now, Hogwarts may have become their target.

(End of this chapter)