I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 285 And my friend—you are the true hero!

The next few days were peaceful.

As December approached, the cold winter brought strong winds, rain, and snow to Hogwarts. Although there was always a draft in the castle in winter, the gloomy mood in everyone's hearts would immediately disappear whenever they passed Durmstrang's ship moored on the lake.

Indeed, everything is relative. Compared to the great ship tossed and turned in the gale, its black sails fluttering in the dark night sky, the castle at least had a warm hearth and thick walls, which made the young wizards feel fortunate.

Many people assumed that Durmstrang’s mobile home must be freezing cold.

No wonder Krum often went to the school library, while the other Durmstrang students were used to spending their time in the Slytherin common room. They got along quite well.

Compared to Durmstrang's students, Beauxbatons' students were more accustomed to staying in their own carriages.

Fleur and her sister Gabrielle are the only exceptions; they are very popular in the Gryffindor common room.

As for the competition, The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler published their reports on the front page on the third day.

Even academically oriented journals like "Today's Metamorphosis" and "Today's Curse" extensively published coverage of the competition.

As an academic journal, they seriously analyzed all the spells and transformation techniques used by the Warriors in the four games and scored them.

As expected, Miss Granger won first place.

Her source magic and the Gryffindor sword left a deep impression on everyone. That unimaginable magic was approaching the limits of modern wizarding imagination.

Many pure-blood wizards should feel ashamed of their wands, of magic, and of the world they were born into, for they are not even worth a hair on the head of the Mudbloods they speak of.

So, to balance their pitiful pride, no one brought up Hermione's background anymore.

When the photograph of her holding the Gryffindor sword in one hand and the grapevine wand in the other, standing beneath the stars, appeared in the newspapers, everyone remembered only one thing: Miss Granger—truly worthy of the name of the heir to Gryffindor.

She was a true disciple of Godric.

For Hermione herself, this is both a good thing and a bad thing.

Because the day after the newspaper published its findings, her home, her father's dental clinic, was vandalized.

The Muggle police couldn't find anything out, but anyone with a discerning eye knew that the wizard was behind it.

The walls of the shop were covered with all sorts of filthy words written in what looked like red dye, mostly cursing Mr. Granger for stealing the wizard's child.

It's quite possible that this was done by one of Miss Granger's most ardent fans.

After the incident, the Ministry of Magic, of course, would not stand idly by; they immediately dispatched Aurors to hunt down the murderer.

However, after several days of investigation, there were still no results.

In short, I've sent the man out; whether he can be caught is another matter entirely.

It highlights a lack of action. Anyway, no Muggles got hurt, right?

Miss Granger was furious when she learned of this, but she regained her composure after Headmaster Dumbledore assured her that her parents would not be harmed.

This has caused her mood to worsen these past few days. To the young Gryffindor wizard, she's practically become Professor McGonagall II.

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.

Koyatl scored almost the same as her in two major academic journals, with only one point separating them.

Her eternal fire and lightning magic, along with her powerful shapeshifting abilities, earned her the praise and recognition of professionals.

The main reason was that the Ancient Flame was renowned, and the only wizard in the magical world who could wield it was Dumbledore, which earned her a great deal of attention.

Next up is Krum, whose fire shield is also quite good. Coupled with his status as a Quidditch star, both newspapers took his fans into consideration and it's understandable that they ranked him third.

Fourth is Cedric. Although he didn't use any powerful wands and relied entirely on magical plants and animals, his flexible fighting style and unique tactics were still very eye-catching.

He should actually have been ranked third, but Krumm was just too popular.

Lastly, there's Hibiscus. There's not much to say about her; the Infinity Gauntlet is awesome.

But her score was only at the bottom.

The other sections of the Daily Prophet were normal, providing a detailed account of the four warriors' battles and accompanying images of their most glorious moments, the magical scenes stirring the heart.

As for the section managed by Rita Skeeter—all I can say is that she knows how to grab attention.

The entire piece is filled with fabrications and malicious speculations, pushing the limits of human imagination to the extreme.

The main target of their attack, of course, was our Miss Granger.

Unfortunately, it seems she went a little too far this time.

Perhaps it was because the rest of the newspaper reported on the matter in a very serious manner, while her article stood out from the overall solemn atmosphere. It was easy to see that she was maliciously smearing the issue.

Of course, it's more likely that Miss Granger's fan base has expanded once again, and the fan leader directly attacked her.

Various forms of sarcasm, revelations, and death threats have emerged one after another.

Anyway, she really messed up this time.

The following days were uneventful.

The only interesting thing was Hagrid's magical creature class.

Hagrid continuously supplied Mrs. Maxim's horses with their favorite single malt whisky.

A strong smell of alcohol wafted from the feed trough in the corner of the temporary stable, making the students who came to class feel a little dizzy.

This is not good for the young wizards, because they still have to take care of the dreadful Blasttail.

"I'm not sure if they're hibernating," Hagrid told his classmates, who were shivering in the pumpkin patch, during class. "Let's try it and see if they want to sleep. We can put them in these boxes."

Now only ten blasting snails remain, clearly indicating that their cannibalistic nature has not been completely eradicated.

People simply couldn't muster any enthusiasm for such a disgusting monster.

Today, each of the blast-tailed snails is nearly six feet long and has a thick, protective gray layer.

They swung their powerful legs wildly, their tails constantly exploding and spewing fire, and they had spikes and suckers.

These things are growing more and more like a sphinx with a human head and a scorpion tail. In the process of subduing them, the young wizards paid a heavy price, suffering countless burns and cuts on their bodies.

People's tolerance for this kind of thing has reached its limit.

Many young Hogwarts wizards couldn't resist pulling out their wands—classmates! Half a semester has already passed!

I just can't take it anymore!

I'm going against you!

Let's defeat these disgusting creatures and fight for a better tomorrow!

A group of young wizards stared at the blasting snails with hostile eyes.

The young wizards of today are a completely different story; their combat prowess is definitely not low. They've never been so humiliated by being locked up like that.

And just as they were aggressively pressuring—forcing the bream to explode.

Harry glanced at Owen appropriately.

He and Hagrid were friends, and he couldn't let Hagrid be sad.

Then Ron looked at him too.

After seeing the two of them turn their heads, the young wizards present seemed to have found their pillar of support. They all turned to look at him.

Go for it—those eyes seemed to say.

Bearing everyone's expectations, go for it bravely!

His burning gaze seemed to be shouting, "What friendship! What bonds! What the future!" He was trying to trap Irving.

The crowd's meaning was simple.

Anyway, everyone's used to your lawlessness.

The responsibility of relieving the entire village this time falls on your shoulders!

Irving, burdened with everyone's expectations, was truly bewildered.

???

Isn't Harry Potter the savior? Why are you all staring at me?!

Besides, it's just a bunch of tadpole snails, isn't it?

Is it really necessary to go this far?

He then raised his wand.

Suddenly, a strong green light emanated from the tip of the staff, followed by two seconds later.

A mournful howl, carrying the terrifying aura of death, swept straight past the boxes containing the blasting conch shells.

In an instant, a bright green light flashed, as if someone had thrown a flashbang.

"Oh! My dear Jeanne! Ah!!! My wand is out of control! My wand is out of control!!!"

After taking down the five, Owen shouted and yelled, gripping his wand with both hands as if his hands were controlled by some dark force, putting on an extremely exaggerated performance.

"Get out of the way, I can't control it!"

Upon hearing this, the non-Hogwarts wizards scrambled back several steps, while Owen...

He still clung to his hands, struggling against death.

He showed everyone his crystallized wand, indicating that what he said was true.

"Look—it's already like this, it's inevitable that it will get out of control."

"Kyrie Irving!!!"

No sooner had Owen finished speaking than Hagrid, who was holding the giant pumpkin, let out a roar that sounded like a landslide.

He was so angry that he trembled all over, his loose cheeks quivering with each breath, and his face gradually turned bright red.

An angry giant who is over ten feet tall is a terrible thing.

The young wizards from the other schools all looked terrified.

And Ron and his group.

They quietly gave Irving a thumbs up.

Well done! That's why you did a great job!

My friend, you are a true hero!

"How dare you use that evil, terrible thing in my class—" Before he could finish, his voice was forcefully drowned out by Owen.

"First—" He wiped the sweat from his intense practice. He let out a long sigh, his face showing no terrifying expression. Then he raised his hand and another green light emanated from it. This time, a cold and evil aura immediately spread out, and the young wizards even heard the screams of the dead from within the green light.

The curse struck a large pumpkin, causing a massive explosion.

"This is the true killing curse!"

He looked very relaxed, completely unlike the bitter and resentful Death Eater when casting his curse.

It's as easy as eating and drinking.

"Although this spell looks and sounds like a killing curse, it isn't a killing curse!"

Owen shook his wand and said in a serious tone.

He never lies, so this is definitely not a true killing curse.

It is also an attack on the soul.

This spell was actually him activating ancient magic, then changing the color with flashing lights, and miniaturizing the soul torrent; otherwise, why would he need to charge it up for two seconds?

While both are attacks on the soul, the main advantage of this magic is that it does not require strong emotions as a basis.

Although he himself didn't have much emotional buildup when casting the Killing Curse.

But—okay! To be honest, this spell was mainly developed for—well—Harry Potter—Ron Weasley and the others, as long as he could solve the magic power problem.

As for Miss Granger, it's inexplicable. She's been ignoring him these past few days, and I don't know what's wrong with her.

"Liar!" Hagrid yelled, then walked over and looked at the Blasttail in the box. It was completely unharmed, just like the Killing Curse, which further confirmed his judgment.

"I'm going to tell your dean and Professor Dumbledore about this!"

"No problem!" Irving replied. "I'll defend to the death your right to sue, but—"

"I need to correct you on one point. I, Sanchez, never lie. If you don't believe me, go back to chapter 281. When have I ever lied?" He shook his head, held the spell between his index and middle fingers, and walked up to the few gruesome dead Blast-tailed Snails. "Why do you think evil should be associated with cunning, just like you think this is cruel, but I think it's efficient?"

"Can't dark wizards be honest?"

"Look at those legendary demons! They are all honest, friendly, helpful, and contract-abiding. Of course, they might leave a little trap in the contract."

"What I'm trying to say is that I've always been an honest and trustworthy person. Rather than lying, I prefer to use this trick—" As he spoke, he kicked another box, which contained the only living Blasttail.

"A sphinx with a scorpion tail is a Level 5X dangerous creature, and the import and export of such magical creatures are strictly prohibited by the Ministries of Magic of various countries. Where did you get one?"

Before Hagrid could reply, Owen continued, "According to the regulations of the Department of Magical Creatures Management and Control and the relevant laws of the International Wizarding Federation regarding magical creatures, the wizarding world prohibits research into the breeding of magical creatures for the purpose of cultivating dangerous creatures. Didn't you know that?"

"And there are giant eight-eyed spiders in the forest; I guess those creatures aren't native to Britain either!"

"Oh! I met him in the forest last time—"

Owen went on and on, listing more than a dozen kinds of creatures that are prohibited from being kept as pets—mysterious creatures on the list.

"These creatures alone are enough to get you sentenced to Azkaban for the next century."

"Of course, what I'm saying is without evidence and cannot prove that you trained them. However, just as you have the right to report me to the Headmaster and Headmistress, as the student council president of Hogwarts, I naturally have to ensure the safety of the young wizards. With so many dangerous magical creatures around Hogwarts, I will definitely write to the Department of Magical Creatures Control to ask them to clean it up."

He blinked, staring with his big gray eyes.

The entire outer ring of the pupil had faintly turned emerald green.

The meaning is quite obvious.

Zhang San, you're a lawless scoundrel, why are you pretending to be a pure and innocent person?

At worst, my friend would get a scolding, a demerit, or be put in solitary confinement if he used the Killing Curse on that magical little beast; he wouldn't even be expelled.

And you—Hagrid—are definitely going to go in. There's no doubt about it.

"you!"

After listening for a while, Hagrid finally realized that the kid was threatening him.

But—he had no choice, because Irving was right, even more so.

In this world, because Dumbledore closed the Chamber of Secrets early on in the second year, it was the old headmaster who protected him with his reputation regarding the events of fifty years ago, which allowed him to return to the school and become a professor.

Once the Ministry of Magic finds out he has broken the law.

That—that would become quite troublesome. It could even affect Dumbledore's reputation.

He might not care about his own reputation, but he doesn't care about Dumbledore's.

Hagrid never allowed anyone to speak ill of Dumbledore.

Therefore, he had no choice but to compromise.

"Hufflepuff deduct 50 points!"

After thinking for a long time, Hagrid finally couldn't resist. "I can choose not to report you (although Dumbledore probably won't punish you much), but I'll still get points deducted."

"Ah! Points deducted! Deduct them if you want!" Anyway, he didn't plan to compete for the House Cup this year. The main reason was that Hermione became the champion of the tournament, which gave Dumbledore, that biased guy, an excuse to give points. He didn't have much hope that Cedric would win the championship.

The ultimate champion will likely be either Miss Granger or that witch Ilfamoni.

In any case, Old Deng will definitely take the opportunity to give Gryffindor a huge boost in points.

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.

Having lost his teaching tools, Hagrid had no choice but to change his strategy.

He led them to the edge of the forbidden forest.

Another magical creature lives there.

The Night Steed.

The Forbidden Forest in December is nothing short of freezing cold; the wind blowing against a young wizard's cheek can crack their skin. This is no joke.

Even in the hottest summer months, young wizards usually choose to wear long sleeves and trousers when entering the Forbidden Forest. The forest is already cold, and now it's even colder with the added magical effects.

A cold wind swept in, and the young wizards, as if a ball had been started early, all began to shiver.

The snow along the way had hardened.

It's expired.

It wasn't as soft as it had been when it first landed. It had broken into chunks, and instead of making a creaking sound when stepped on, it simply collapsed.

As an elective course, many fourth-year students choose this course.

Although most of the other three schools' junior wizards take this course with the sixth and seventh year students, due to the limited number of students, some actually take it with the fourth year students.

After all, the Magical Creatures Protection class isn't like the Charms class. As long as it's a magical creature they haven't seen before, they can be taught normally regardless of their grade level.

After walking for about ten minutes, they arrived at an open area.

Unlike other places, this place is lush with trees and as dark as dusk.

The evergreen forests, mainly composed of laurel trees, are tall and lush.

There was no snow on the ground, so the snowflakes must not have fallen at all.

Hagrid was carrying an iron bucket and half a cow on his shoulder.

—Don't misunderstand, it really is half a cow.

He threw the beef on the ground with a thud, took two steps back, and turned to face the whole class.

"Come closer, come closer," Hagrid encouraged. "Now, they'll be drawn by the smell of meat, but I'll still call them, because they like to hear it's me—"

Irving looked at the cow with pity.

Oh! Poor cow.

We're both animals, so why are you so miserable?

Ultimately, it's because you're not amazing enough that you fell to the ground.

"Whoo!" he called out affectionately. "Come here and say hello to the little wizards."

In the jungle, a lean, brownish-yellow Thestral slowly broke away from the herd and tentatively approached the calf.

The young wizards were startled.

They all retreated one after another.

Many people even used tree trunks as cover, fearing the creature and watching it cautiously, as if on guard against being attacked at any moment.

In reality, people are not afraid of this creature.

The Thestrals simply don't have a good reputation in the wizarding world.

Many people believe that this creature is very unlucky and will bring all kinds of terrible disasters to those who see it; it is considered an ominous sign.

Professor Trelawney is very qualified to speak on this point.

So people aren't afraid of Thestrals, but rather of the bad luck they might bring.

After all, the little wizards are all E-level lucky, and they don't want to become E-level lucky.

"Thestrals are incredibly intelligent and extremely useful. Once tamed, they will never leave their master," Hagrid said enthusiastically, as if he had already forgotten the unpleasantness of the moment.

Meanwhile, the Thestral named Wuwu had already walked up to the poor ox and begun tearing at its flesh.

"They have an amazing sense of direction; as long as you tell them where you want to go, they can always find their way."

"Moreover, Thestrals are incredibly fast, and the main job of the Thestrals kept at Hogwarts is to pull carriages for the school."

He turned to look at the timid little wizards.

Then he grabbed Harry and shoved him forward, saying, "Go first, Harry, act like a Gryffindor!"

As a young wizard living in a Muggle community, Harry naturally didn't have the superstitious views of wizards. He cautiously approached the Thestrals, but didn't know what to do.

"Relax, these aren't hippogriffs. Thestrals won't attack wizards as long as you don't attack them," Hagrid said loudly behind him. Seemingly to increase the credibility of his words, he then invoked Dumbledore's name, "Believe me, if Dumbledore needed to travel a long distance and didn't want to use Apparition, he would use one of these creatures."

Encouraged by Hagrid, Harry finally stood before the Thestral.

Upon seeing a stranger arrive, the enormous Thestral looked up at him, flapped its bat-like wings a few times, and before Harry could react, it buried its head in its flesh again, the scene splattering with blood.

After waiting for a moment.

After Thestrals calmed down, Harry slowly reached out his hand.

Although Hagrid said that Thestrals were not hippogriffs, he still instinctively lowered his head to show respect to the magical creature.

Then a strange sensation came over him. Harry had touched the Thestral's neck.

Whew—it's rough to the touch, that was his first thought, followed by a gentle sensation.

(End of this chapter)