I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 283 My Dear Granger

"Miss Granger, please go out with me!"

The auditorium fell silent instantly.

The clamor abruptly ceased.

Everyone looked up and saw a tall, imposing man walking up behind Miss Granger, who was sitting on the Gryffindor bench.

He had short gray hair and black eyes.

He was wearing a deep red robe and a fur cloak draped over his shoulders.

This magical robe, inspired by the traditional clothing of the Slavic people, best accentuates the wearer's imposing physique.

Unlike his muscular physique, his face showed a shyness like that of a young girl.

His cheeks were flushed, he held a bouquet of delicate roses in his hands, leaned forward slightly, and looked at the girl in front of him with expectant and deep eyes.

I stared at her back.

Hiss—such a tender look almost made Owen, standing in front of the door, think that the book was about to change its protagonist.

He pulled one foot back, pondered for a moment, and then stepped inside.

—Dude, is there something wrong with how you're doing this?

It seems like I'm the main character?

Miss Granger, who was directly involved in all of this, didn't seem particularly surprised.

Instead, she appeared completely unfazed. Then, she slowly put down the parchment scroll in her hand, stood up, faced the boy, and said, "I'm sorry."

She gave a slightly apologetic look. "I don't have any plans to be in a relationship right now." The girl's voice was serious, and her gentle and refined demeanor reflected her unique and endearing qualities.

Upon hearing Hermione's voice, the young wizards around her, especially the Gryffindor students, breathed a sigh of relief.

Their eyes were fixed on the young Durmstrang wizard.

"You're really brave!" Harry and the others pursed their lips, looking at the boy with a sense of tragic grandeur, like the mournful cry of a lone warrior facing the cold Yi River.

However, the little wizard has two other sources of amusement, namely the twins.

The two whispered something to each other, their faces filled with anticipation that Hermione would agree.

That way, they'll have even more fun to watch.

"I know you're so outstanding, I..."

The boy breathed a sigh of relief; he wasn't really hurt, and his expression was more of a sense of relief.

It's like fulfilling a dream; I hope my youth will be without regrets.

Then, he looked tenderly at Hermione, placed the flowers in his hand into her hand, and said, "Please accept this at least." Then, with a smile on his face, as if he had just ended his life, he left the Gryffindor table.

That figure possessed an indescribable charm.

He possessed a dashing air about him, and if he were facing any other young witch at Hogwarts instead of Miss Granger, they would likely be deeply captivated by his demeanor.

Hermione simply accepted the flowers, calmly sat down again, placed them aside, and then resumed her work on the parchment.

There are records of all sorts of Hogwarts legends there. Even when she is pondering the Weasleys' secret treasure, she is also searching for the locket inside the golden egg.

"Hi, Harry!"

On the other side of the long table, the twins winked at Harry, a knowing smile playing on their lips. "Sorry, I'm not planning on dating yet," George said in a cheesy voice, mimicking Hermione's. "Good heavens, that's a really good excuse, isn't it?"

"It's just that the person you're confessing to is the wrong one," Fred continued.

"But I guarantee someone will never forget it." Harry grinned mischievously, gesturing to the twins and looking towards the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Oh?" Hearing this, the twins turned around and saw Owen going in and out of the foyer.

"This is going to be interesting." The twins immediately grinned mischievously.

Hermione then noticed Owen standing in front of the door.

She glanced at the boy, then turned away and immersed herself in the parchment again.

A hint of resentment was visible on his face.

It seems she's still blaming Kyrie Irving for increasing the difficulty of the game without her consent yesterday.

"How many is this?" Ron asked, picking up a bag of multi-flavored beans from the seat, opening it, and grabbing a handful.

"From the front door of the common room, to the library, and then to the Great Hall, this is the fourth one," Harry replied.

"Our Miss Granger is incredibly charming."

"Oh! George, it seems we need to buy a batch of roses; they're sure to sell like hotcakes!" Fred said sarcastically.

"That's right, they should be sold in front of the Gryffindor common room; that's how you really make money."

"Make money?"

Upon hearing about making money, Irving immediately appeared behind them.

"What new money-making ideas do you have?"

"We're planning to sell roses in front of Gryffindor," the twins said, looking at Owen with a comical expression.

"Selling flowers?" He found a seat and sat down. "Why not sell them in front of Ravenclaw? The Savior would definitely buy them all."

Harry, who was watching the show, was caught in the crossfire.

"Harry? He's not as rich as someone else. You agree, George," Fred said, nudging George with his elbow.

"That's right! Haha."

As they spoke, they both laughed.

The laughter carried a strong sense of merriment.

Hermione, who was pondering the mystery, became furious upon hearing this.

She didn't know why she was angry, but she was just very angry.

Just as she was about to unleash her power, another young wizard suddenly appeared behind her.

That was the fifth guy to confess his feelings.

Wearing a long robe in blue and berry red, his identity was immediately recognizable as that of the wizard Iphamoni.

At that moment, he was carrying a large bouquet of golden, unidentified flowers and quickly approached Miss Granger from behind.

As he approached her, the boy gracefully placed the flower on Hermione's pile of books, deliberately positioning the rose further away from Miss Granger, and then said in a gentlemanly manner, "Good day, my beautiful girl."

Then he turned and left without leaving a trace.

He's a master of putting on airs.

"Damn! Is it this greasy?" Gemini complained.

Then they watched in astonishment as the golden flower suddenly began to deform, as if shrinking, into a letter, a letter branded with flowers and written in gold lettering.

"That was a pretty good move," Ron praised, then grabbed a handful of snacks from the second guy who had confessed his feelings.

"But writing love letters is too old-fashioned." Gemini offered a different opinion. As masters of pranks, if they were to confess their feelings, they would definitely come up with something different.

For example—Weasley fireworks or something.

"Whether it's old-fashioned or not doesn't matter, what matters is the content!" Owen rested his head on his hand, took a sip of pumpkin porridge, and turned to Miss Granger, saying, "May I take a look?"

Upon hearing this, Miss Granger, who was still writing something with her head down, said calmly, "Whatever."

"casual?"

"Um—reading other people's love letters is really immoral, so everyone should take my experience as a warning." With that, he quickly took the letter and then very naturally tore the envelope open along the edge.

The moment he opened the letter, a room full of bouquets appeared in his hands, the gilded lettering exuding a classical charm.

"You can keep this letter; it's full of memories from your youth. Looking back on it decades later will definitely bring a different kind of joy." With that, Owen began to read the contents of the letter.

"To Miss Granger—"

I am a sixth-year wizard from Iphamoni School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—

I come from a noble pure-blood family—

My grandfather—

my father--"

Irving read a couple of sentences, but then he couldn't continue.

What?!

What is this writing?!

"This is the dumbest love letter I've ever seen," he complained. "What's the point of mentioning your dad and grandpa at the beginning?! You must be out of your mind."

"." Not only him, but the twins also frowned frequently. Good heavens, this looks like it was made by some Slytherin. They're not here for a blind date, but to sell goods.

"Even Slytherins wouldn't write love letters like this." Just as the two of them were complaining about some Slytherins, Owen suddenly said loudly, and then dropped a bombshell, "Professor Snape was a master at writing love letters! You didn't see what he wrote to Harry's mother—tsk tsk—it's a pity he didn't have the courage to send it."

"Huh?" Harry, caught in the crossfire again, straightened up. "He even wrote love letters to my mother?"

What an extraordinary melon!

"More than that! There are dozens!" he said, looking down at the letter in his hand. "Last time Dumbledore—never mind, it's not important."

Look at this letter! It's all show and no substance. If you can't write a letter, you should at least pay someone to write it. It wouldn't cost more than a few Galleons; I'd only charge five at most!

"."

No sooner had Irving finished speaking than the twins became interested. They looked at Irving teasingly and asked, "If it were you, how would you write it?"

"Me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, Sanchez's little lesson is starting again. Let me help this guy polish up his writing."

He coughed lightly.

Then the tone slowed down and dropped by one pitch.

As the autumn wind blows down the green leaves, the fields ripple with the joy of harvest, and the golden autumn speaks slowly and deliberately.

"My dear Granger—"

When I think of you, I seem to see the beautiful plains of Iowa—

The moment Owen uttered the first word, the expressions on the faces of the young wizards around him changed.

Wow, you're serious!

Harry quickly grabbed a piece of parchment from Hermione's book and began writing down every single sentence.

Because this might be the most useful thing Kyrie Irving taught him this year.

Hermione's ears perked up instantly, her ear tips turning crimson.

"Don't just write 'the plains of Iowa.' That idiot's American, and if he's stupid, you're stupid too, right?!" Owen grabbed the letter and slammed it on Harry's head. "Use your brain, will you?!"

"Oh!" Harry scratched his head and crossed out "plains of Iowa" from his pen.

"Change it to 'The magnificent mountains and rivers of the Scottish Highlands'; of course, that's about Granger, but Miss Qiu might be more comfortable with 'The tranquil forests of Yangzhou'," Owen said, rolling his eyes at the group of little wizards who had suffered from a lack of culture.

That makes sense, since Hogwarts doesn't teach composition, the young wizards' literacy level is practically nonexistent.

They can't write any decent sentences.

"Oh!" Harry nodded, and solemnly added a sentence after the correction marks: "The quiet mountains and forests of Yangzhou."

I've never seen that forest before; please invite me if you have the chance.

"Harry, don't overdo it!" Owen interrupted him. "Write it as I say!"

"Okay, okay." He nodded, then crossed out the sentence he had written again.

After saying that, Irving coughed lightly, gradually bringing the atmosphere back on track.

"My dear Granger—"

When I think of you, I seem to see roses growing on the cliffs of the Scottish Highlands—

The distance between us is making me depressed.

Time without you is meaningless to me.

Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done.

Nothing is more important than you, and I will feel that deeply every day I live.

I love you today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life I will love you—

He gradually put the letter down.

His expression showed a hint of unfinished business.

He could have done even better if he had written it down; he only dictated it, and there were some words he didn't have time to say.

"Oh! How romantic!" The twins' praise arrived late, but it came nonetheless.

The two of them looked at Harry, "Remember to get us one too, just in case!"

"Who are you writing to? Angelina?" Owen raised an eyebrow. "Everyone has a different personality, so you need to focus on different aspects when you write. Hey—I've suddenly discovered a way to make money!"

He spoke tactfully, and then he noticed that a little witch with shining eyes was secretly watching him.

Immediately, the boy smiled slightly, rested his chin on his hands, and looked at her. "Miss Granger, do you also need to write love letters?"

He blinked and said gently, "I can teach you for free!"

With just one glance, Hermione's cheeks flushed red. She hurriedly looked away, her breathing becoming rapid.

He held the quill pen awkwardly in both hands, pretending to write something.

However, the words I wrote became shorter and shorter until I couldn't write the last word, but my heart was filled with a thousand words.

That is a long and voluminous work that could fill a lifetime of correspondence.

"I'm going to the library to look up some information." Her eyes kept avoiding Owen's gaze.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed, yet that was the most striking declaration of love.

Then Miss Granger could no longer sit still.

She hurriedly got up, picked up the books beside her, and didn't even bother to pick up the silver cup she had knocked over. She moved as fast as a butterfly fleeing in panic.

"Wow! That's the most romantic confession I've ever seen!" Harry exclaimed enviously, carefully slipping the parchment into his pocket before looking up at Owen. "How do you know so much?"

"Because—" Owen winked at him, "my brother's IQ is two pounds higher than yours."

Having said that, he began to devote himself wholeheartedly to the battle of eliminating today's breakfast.

Today is another new day!

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.

Meanwhile, in front of the newly opened milk tea shop in Hogsmeade Village, the witch from Iphamony, Koyatir, sat on a wicker chair with a worried expression on her face.

Under her chin was a glass of clear, light-colored drink.

This is a new product from the milk tea shop. The flavor is very complex, but the texture is very refreshing, like vodka with various fruits added.

The young wizard, Strong, loved this flavor.

This was also her first time drinking it.

It had a slightly astringent, bitter, and spicy taste. When this complex flavor exploded on her taste buds, even she, who was usually very patient, frowned repeatedly.

However, when she managed to swallow that mouthful, the aroma that rose from her throat was a delightful surprise.

She suddenly understood why Durmstrang's wizards liked this kind of thing.

At this moment, it was snowing lightly.

That's how it is when you're near the sea; it rains or snows endlessly, and the temperature is terribly low.

But this place, which has no name and only a small workshop-like milk tea counter, has a long queue.

These are all young wizards who have come here because of their reputation.

Most of them are boys.

There were even some adult wizards.

"Hello, miss. Here is a letter for you."

Suddenly, a small creature dressed in a black robe walked out through the wind and snow. He opened his cloak and wore thick dragon skin gloves on his hands.

He casually held up a letter with a strange wax seal in front of her.

Koyatl did not look up.

In the snow, the figure appeared only briefly, like a phantom, before vanishing without a trace.

It was as if he had never been here. If it weren't for the letter on the table, there would probably be nothing else to prove that someone had ever delivered a letter to her here.

"call--"

Koyat exhaled a cloud of stale air, then casually picked up the letter from the table.

Only that spicy drink remained in the same spot.

As expected, she's still not suited to this kind of drink.

On the other side of Hogsmeade, two people were hurrying through the snow.

"I've been searching for half a month, and I haven't found anything."

"Dumbledore should really cancel this match." Sirius's usually stern face was filled with worry, accompanied by Professor Moody.

The two left two lines of footprints in the snow.

"Impossible, Barty Krach won't agree," Moody said gruffly. The footprints behind him were similar to Sirius's, but one was deeper and the other shallower.

It was probably caused by the alchemical prosthetics on his leg.

"Barty Crash, Barty Crash!" Sirius shouted. "Whose side is he on? I really suspect he's a Voldemort spy!"

"He's on the side of power, Blake!" Moody suddenly stopped, his magic eyes darting around, zooming in and out, focusing on the milk tea shop. He stared at it for a long time but found nothing. "Don't say that name again!"

"You know, he has been resurrected."

Sirius Black remained silent with a gloomy expression.

"It's going to be very difficult for us to find any clues. If what you're saying is true, then there should have been all sorts of goblins hiding in trenches near Hogwarts hundreds of years ago. No one has discovered them for hundreds of years. How could we possibly find them so easily?"

Moody then resumed his pace, and the two continued walking towards the snow-covered castle.

"We should just storm into Gringotts and capture a bunch of goblins." Sirius's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Torture them, and they'll know everything."

Hearing this, Moody raised his head and glanced at Sirius beside him. This young man was also a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Many years ago, he was a hot-blooded boy with a strong sense of justice. Although he was sometimes reckless, he would never have shown such an expression or done such a thing back then.

"Stay away from Grindelwald," he said.

"The fairies control the economic lifeline of the wizarding world. If you suddenly attack Gringotts, what will happen to the wallets of those bureaucratic tyrants? Will they risk their own money to accompany you on an adventure based on your hearsay?"

"Then what do we do?" Sirius asked indignantly, panting heavily.

"wait!"

"wait?"

"We don't even know if our enemies exist. What can we do but wait?" Moody whispered. "We can only wait, wait for them to make their move. Only then will we have a chance to catch them by the tail."

"Tail?"

The two remained silent.

Based on the current situation, Hogwarts may still look popular, but it is actually in a huge crisis.

This crisis is not like the one in the locked room where the entire school is in danger.

It's not about reputation.

At this time, the Tournament was being held, and even the slightest mishap could ruin Hogwarts' reputation.

He didn't think the fairies could come up with anything that would be enough to counter Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, but the school, under the magnifying glass, couldn't tolerate even the slightest speck of dust.

Especially yesterday, when Miss Granger shone brightly.

They need quiet, the castle needs quiet, and all the wizards of England need quiet.

Spend some time quietly, and try to avoid any unexpected events.

—The snow was falling even harder in the sky.

Moisture blown in from the Atlantic Ocean is continuously transported to the Scottish Highlands.

After encountering the cold vortex, a strong snow belt formed over Hogwarts.

The heavy snow is expected to last for four or five days.

The weather won't be very good throughout December.

Sunny days will have to wait until January of next year.

However, this was not something that was difficult for the young wizards to accept.

It's just snowing. They can stay inside the castle and not go out.

In Hufflepuff's lounge, the second day of the celebration began.

They made a ruckus all night long; if they didn't have to go to class the next day, Irving estimated they would have celebrated until well into the night.

After their energy was depleted, Justin, Ernie, and Susan sat in armchairs, discussing what the next match would be.

Now that he finally had some free time, Irving began to carefully consider his test of succession.

He couldn't help but turn his gaze to the portrait of Lady Hufflepuff on the wall.

As is widely known, Helga Hufflepuff was the greatest wizard of her time.

Yes, the greatest!

Aside from Merlin, a figure in the magical world comparable to a god, Hufflepuff, as a 'mortal,' achieved far more than the other three founders.

Whether it's Slytherin, who left Hogwarts midway and disappeared without a trace, even setting traps for future Hogwarts, or Gryffindor, who were at odds with Slytherin throughout their lives and, despite their great achievements in magic, lacked social skills and were simply reckless.

Or perhaps it was the emphasis on intelligence over other qualities that led Ravenclaw to become the house with the second-highest number of dark wizards, and Rowena, who died young due to the devastating loss of her daughter.

Lady Helga Hufflepuff truly dedicated her entire life to Hogwarts until her death.

In historical evaluations, her ultimate achievements far surpassed those of the other three founders.

They are even far ahead.

(End of this chapter)