I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 286 Don't Try to Master Power You Don't Understand

"Oh! Well done!" Hagrid praised. "Five points for Gryffindor!"

As he spoke, he began to organize the young wizards into a line, so that each of them could interact with the creature one by one.

Honestly, this experience is pretty good, at least much better than those fried snails.

Thestrals won't suddenly breathe fire on them.

But there are still some people.

Most of the other young wizards from other schools were wizards from Iphamoni.

They could only watch helplessly.

Because—Thestrals? Where are they? Why can't I see them?

From their perspective, all they could see were the young wizards of Hogwarts excitedly rubbing against a patch of air.

The air still held traces of blood (blood from the Thestral's mouth).

And that half of the cow was rapidly shrinking in size.

Besides.

They can't see anything.

Of course, whether they could see it or not was not important, because the Thestrals were right there, within reach, which at least dispelled their naive notion that the Hogwarts wizards were conspiring to trick them.

Suddenly, Owen felt his robe being gently tugged. He looked down and saw the nearest Thestral licking his sleeve.

When it noticed Irving's gaze on it, it turned its head and looked into the distance.

"What's wrong?"

Following the direction indicated by the Thestrals, Owen noticed that a figure had suddenly appeared at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

With her silver hair and iconic strawberry-red school uniform, her identity was instantly recognizable.

"Koyatl?" Irving's brows relaxed. He had been wanting to talk to her since the game, but he had never had the time. Today, however, they happened to run into each other.

Then—he walked toward Miss Granger.

Then he dragged her along to the other side of the forest.

"What are you doing!" Hermione grabbed Owen's arm, frowned, and whispered angrily.

"I'm planning to talk to Koyatl over there!" the boy said.

"And then!" Hermione asked, stretching her pale neck.

"We need to talk privately about something personal, which could take a long time."

After saying that, he clearly felt that the resistance from his arm had decreased significantly.

"What does it have to do with me?" the little witch retorted stubbornly.

"It's nothing," Owen said, then released her hand. "You can go now!"

"Huh?" The sudden stop caught Miss Granger off guard. "You—" she gritted her teeth, staring at him fiercely as if she wanted to devour him.

Then—Irving continued on his way with a grin.

And behind him.

The little witch followed without hesitation.

"Didn't I tell you to go back?"

"I like walking this way, it's none of your business!" Miss Granger said firmly.

"Alright!" Irving continued, "By the way, you know the traditions of the Championship Series, right?"

"A Christmas party?"

"That's right, every warrior needs to find a dance partner to start the dance. Professor McGonagall will probably inform all the teachers and students in a few days."

"So—so what?" The little witch's voice suddenly lowered.

Who are you planning to invite?

"I—" Miss Granger's voice suddenly trailed off, but being as clever as she was, she quickly found a retort, "Why are you asking me that? Do you want me to invite you?"

"Hey—I didn't say that." Owen turned and winked at her. "I meant, you have to be careful, you can't let a moment of impulsiveness turn into a painful regret when you're old and look back on the ball!"

"Hmph—I won't regret it!" the little witch said somewhat awkwardly. If you looked closely, you would notice that her cheeks were slightly flushed, but because of the weather, it was not obvious, and you couldn't tell whether it was from the cold or from shyness.

"Yes," Owen said, looking at her. "That's exactly the kind of thinking I have, and it's dangerous."

"Past regrets will not disappear with time; they will only turn into a bitter cup of wine with the passage of time."

"Finally, the bitter wine is swallowed—plop, plop, plop!"

He chuckled softly, then stopped a few feet from the edge of the forbidden forest, just a few feet from Koyatl.

Stepping forward, he changed his tone. Unlike his teasing of Miss Granger, this time he was very serious: "You must understand death, know death, and acknowledge death in order to truly see the Thestrals."

"You really do need talk therapy."

"Come on, don't panic, don't run." He raised his right hand and waved it casually. The surrounding trees seemed to come alive, stretching out their branches and vines to surround him and form a fence.

Beneath him, the rotten wood transformed into a chair.

Um—and give one to Miss Granger too.

"Don't be nervous."

My treatment method involves no injections or medication; I just sit here and chat with you, using conversation as a form of therapy, or simply talk therapy.

Seeing that Koyatl had no intention of leaving.

She watched him from afar, her expression shifting between light and shadow, but she never turned and left immediately.

Seeing this, Irving adopted the demeanor of an elder, took out a piece of parchment from his pocket, and wrote a few words hastily on the yellowed paper.

"I have many questions to ask you," he said. "Let's begin with the first topic."

"Honey"

After uttering those three words, he immediately folded the parchment in his hand, then, without batting an eye, stuffed it back into his pocket. "Sorry, I took the wrong parchment. This isn't for you."

After saying that, he rummaged through another pocket, finally seeming to touch something hard, and pulled it out. It was a book, "Hmm, 'Learn Waltz in a Week'."

"Okay." He quickly shoved the book into Hermione's hands. "You've been studying too many different things, it's all a mess."

"It's okay, I'm better at aimlessly hitching rides in the summer."

Koyatl observed everything the boy did.

To be honest, she was completely unfamiliar with Owen and particularly disliked his eccentric personality.

All she knew was that at Hogwarts, the boy in front of her had an even greater influence than the girl beside him.

This is extremely unreasonable. She watched the witch's entire competition, and whether it was her spellcasting skills, the difficulty of casting spells, or her combat prowess, she far surpassed her.

She had never even heard of those powerful spells.

There are generally only two reasons why a girl would submit to a boy like this.

Or perhaps the boy was stronger than her, even much stronger, otherwise she wouldn't be so intimate with him. If the difference in strength were too small, she should have fought back. Or perhaps, the witch was a terrible love-struck fool, willingly submitting to someone else.

However, it seems that the second possibility is more reasonable at present.

But this doesn't mean she underestimates Irving. In fact, deep down, she already has some idea of ​​what Irving's abilities are like.

It's just that she's far from reaching Miss Granger's level.

"Alright, let's get serious." Owen slumped in his chair, crossed his arms and placed them on his stomach, a faint smile playing on his lips. "The surname Stuart is quite rare among wizards."

"Especially in North America."

"There's only one famous Stuart in history, so are you a descendant of Aesop Searle and James Stuart?"

As the time became ripe, Irving immediately went straight to the point.

When he first heard the surname, Irving felt it was familiar, but he didn't immediately recognize it.

That's because James Stewart is a Muggle—well—to be precise, a Muggle.

Moreover, his direct descendants, their wizard daughter, never married and had no children (she did not want the terrible bloodline in her body to be passed down, that was the Slytherin bloodline). So Owen did not initially connect Coryatl with Aesop Thale, the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Ilvermorny.

However, at some point, Miss Granger began to display extraordinary talents and powerful magical abilities. Coupled with speculation about her origins, this gradually reminded Owen of Aesop's other child.

The other of the twin daughters, born a dud.

After she came of age, she left Evamoni. Unable to use magic, she did not belong to that world. In the end, she married a Muggle and lived her life like an ordinary person.

And this bloodline seems to have a long and rich history.

If the girl before them truly is a descendant of Salazar, then besides the Gaunt family, only the Stewart family is most likely to produce another descendant with such talent.

The silver-haired girl was clearly caught off guard by the sudden question, but instead of dodging it or turning away, she surprisingly spoke up, "They said I am."

"Them?" Owen leaned back in his chair, his head tilted slightly back, making him look somewhat arrogant. "So Koyatl Stewart isn't your original name. I knew it—how could anyone be so stupid as to use the name of the North American god as their own name?"

Isn't that as ridiculous as someone naming themselves Zeus or Odin?

The girl remained silent upon hearing the sound.

Remaining silent.

Silence often signifies agreement.

"The second question, who are 'they'?" Owen narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly. "The Magical Congress of the United States? Or some other dark wizarding organization?"

silence.

Silence once again.

"It seems this question touches on a core issue. Let's change the subject, to one closely related to your own use," Owen continued. "Where does that magic you possess come from?"

As soon as the words were spoken, the girl's face changed drastically. Like a mouse seeing a cat, she took several steps back, her right hand already pressed against her waist and abdomen.

That's where her magic wand is kept.

"Such a strong reaction?" Owen slowly stood up from his chair upon seeing this. "Generally speaking, when people ask you where you got something, if you react very strongly, the most likely reason is that the thing didn't originally belong to you. You stole it from someone else, and when you hear people talking about it, you think they're trying to steal it or that the rightful owner has arrived, which is why you reacted so strongly."

Am I right?

"What do you want to do?" The girl had already drawn her wand.

"I want to tell you, or the person behind you, not to try to grasp things you don't understand at all. Ancient magic is not as simple as you think. Trying to control it will only bring misfortune upon yourself."

Kyrie Irving never lies.

The girl's magic did indeed resemble ancient magic.

But do you think ancient magic would be anything good?

To the Outer Gods, this was nothing more than an ever-burning lamp in the darkness. Without immense strength and mental fortitude, this power was nothing more than a short-lived celebration bought with the depletion of one's life force.

After the revelry, when you truly confront the Outer God, you will ultimately only go mad in your delirium, or simply throw yourself into the Outer God's embrace.

And the girl in front of me.

Judging from her intense mental fluctuations...

Irving had reason to believe that the Outer God had already bewitched her.

He couldn't see any strong will in her.

"Burning flames!" Koyatl chanted, waving his wand.

It wasn't aimed at Irving, but at the tree branches behind her.

A corner of the fence was torn open, and she immediately turned around, preparing to leave.

Seeing this, Irving did not stop him, because he had already gotten enough.

He did indeed guess some things.

As for Koyatl, if she's willing to be honest and tell him or Dumbledore everything, that would be good. If she's not, then Owen can watch a spectacle of an Outer God bewitching mortals, using her as bait to see just how capable that enemy who has lived for thousands of years really is.

"She possesses ancient magic?" Miss Granger looked at Owen with great confusion as she watched the girl's departing figure. She knew about the heirs of ancient magic. She had been a participant in both expeditions to the ruins, both the cavern and the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts.

There should only be one heir to ancient magic.

There should be no second person to take office if the current leader is still alive; this has been the rule for hundreds of years.

So where did that witch Iphamone's ancient magic come from?

“It’s not ancient magic.” Owen turned to look at Miss Granger, “but it’s very similar. If ancient magic is a rainbow, then the magic she possesses is one of the colors red, orange, yellow, and green.”

"In short, there must be a huge secret about her."

"So what do we do? Just watch and wait?" she asked.

"Us?" Owen raised an eyebrow. "Would Miss Granger like to team up with me?"

"..." Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Be serious, we're talking about important matters!"

"How can this not be important?" Owen stared at her, his gray eyes filled with tenderness, then suddenly lowered his head and whispered in her ear, "This is the most important thing this year."

"And this year—there's only one month left."

------

While Owen was still trying to win over Miss Granger, the course on the other side was basically over.

Everyone is in a period of free exploration.

Hagrid took a piece of fresh meat from the iron bucket. He clapped his hands and made a strange whistling sound towards the sky.

Before long, a giant dragon with a diamond-like luster flew down from the sky.

It was Bakal, a tiny dragon the size of a palm, who snatched the fresh meat from Hagrid's hand in one gulp.

Then it suddenly jerked its head back, flung the meat high into the air, and with a roar it spat out a ball of fire, roasting the meat until it was seven-tenths cooked, before swallowing it whole.

The movements were fluid and graceful, clearly the result of extensive practice.

After eating and drinking its fill, it landed on Hagrid's shoulder.

"Oh my god! It's that Tyrannosaurus Rex!"

Not only the young wizards from other schools, but even some wizards from Hogwarts unconsciously took a few steps back.

As students of the course on the protection of magical creatures, they had certainly seen Bakal, and Hagrid had fed him quite a bit.

But they never saw Bakal in person.

Who wouldn't be intimidated by that dragon that was dozens of feet long?

"Oh! Don't worry, it has a very good temper and will never attack the little wizard." Compared to Sirocco, who caused trouble in the Forbidden Forest and was always nowhere to be found, spending twenty-nine days a month wandering around outside, Bakal, who returned home on time every day, was clearly more to Hagrid's liking.

Not to mention, he has always liked dragons.

"Come on, you can touch it. Oh! Although the scales of the Australian white-eyed goat look like diamonds, they are not actually hard. Instead, they are like leather and have a certain degree of flexibility."

Hagrid then invited the young wizards to get to know the master of the Hogwarts sky anew.

Seeing that Bakal indeed showed no intention of attacking them, the young wizards of Hogwarts mustered their courage and came forward one by one, eagerly anticipating a close encounter with the dragon.

That's a giant dragon!

Who wouldn't love a dragon?

Just as the young wizards were lining up, preparing for a wonderful encounter with the dragon, a heavy coughing sound suddenly came from behind them.

"Cough cough cough!!!"

That's Kyrie Irving.

He was squinting at the traitorous dragon who didn't know who its master was, and who had no ruler or father.

Did they buy you off by bringing you food every day?

The kitchen next to Hufflepuff never goes out, so why don't I see you coming back every day?

snort!

As expected, a dragon cannot be tamed.

But compared to my own cat.

Okay, dragons are still better than cats.

Bakal, upon seeing the resentful look in its master's eyes, immediately understood.

It found its navigational beacon. Then it flapped its wings and leaned forward, like a white lightning bolt.

On the other side, the arrogant Irving gave a soft snort and opened his arms.

Then—this dead dragon actually burrowed straight into Miss Granger's arms.

Damn it! I knew this dragon couldn't be tamed!

He turned to look at Miss Granger, who was panicked and looked as if she were holding a precious jewel.

She stood there, bewildered, while Bakal lay comfortably in the girl's arms, its four paws outstretched, and yawned.

Then she turned her head, her deep blue eyes gazing dreamily at Owen.

Master—did I do the right thing?

I've got this girl for you!!!

?

This damn dragon dares to provoke me!

Completely unable to decipher the dragon's gaze, Owen was instantly enraged.

If I don't teach it a lesson today, I'll take Miss Granger's last name!

With that, he stretched out his two wicked hands and snatched Bakal directly from Hermione's arms.

Meow~~~~

Bakal let out a shrill sound.

Then Irving shook his head so hard he lost his bearings.

Just as he and Bakal were "playing intimately," a black-robed bat-like man suddenly emerged from the woods.

Potterradar squeaked and screamed; he was the first little wizard to notice the figure.

"Snape?" He frowned, looking down at Ron beside him. "What's he doing here?"

"I don't know!" Ron said, somewhat annoyed. "But I'm pretty sure we all owe him money. Look at his face. He treats us like enemies."

"I bet it's because Hermione's competition was too much of a focus, and he's feeling resentful," Harry said slyly. "You know, if a champion were chosen from Slytherin, he definitely wouldn't have this expression."

"That's right, he'll definitely come over first and laugh at us."

The two continued their conversation, and Snape entered.

Perhaps the moment Bakal appeared, he emerged from the forest bushes.

He wore the same black robe he never wore before, his face was cold, and even the winter wind couldn't compare to his gaze.

At first, no one noticed him except Harry.

It wasn't until the surrounding air suddenly dropped several degrees that everyone realized there was an environmental vandal emitting a chilling aura in the woods.

"Hmm?" Owen naturally noticed the gloomy professor as well.

He watched as Snape walked toward Hagrid.

Hagrid then took a small package from his pocket and handed it to Snape.

"What are you guys doing?" he shouted bluntly.

It should be said that Hagrid and Snape weren't that close.

That little bag looks like something made of magic materials.

Hagrid—Britain's largest supplier of magical materials, with customers all over Diagon Alley.

Many items in Snape's collection were provided by Hagrid.

It's perfectly normal for them to have some kind of backroom deal.

"It's just some scales from Bakal. This hybrid dragon's scales seem to have some amazing medicinal value. We just need to study them." Hagrid glanced down at him, then frowned, his tone full of displeasure.

"ha?"

"Damn it! Hagrid, you're so cruel! You actually took my dragon's scales!" Owen yelled at him.

You've mistaken me for someone else!

Unbelievable! Unbelievable! Your outward honesty was all a facade; you were actually driven by greed all along.

"That's something that just fell off naturally!" Hagrid said, his face darkening.

"Bullshit! Has anyone ever heard of a fire-breathing dragon molting?"

"And—did he pay you when you gave the scales to him?" Owen squinted at Snape. Hmph! This guy is obviously a long-time freeloader. Pay him? Pay my ass.

Seeing Owen's serious expression, Snape's face did not change at all, but it was different when he looked at Miss Granger beside him.

What kind of look was that?

With disgust mixed with anger and resentment, it's safe to say that Miss Granger's Potions class afterward will certainly not be easy.

There's nothing we can do; our Professor Snape is just that narrow-minded.

If Miss Granger were from Slytherin, then needless to say, he could probably pass on all his skills to her. Unfortunately—there are no ifs.

The Gryffindor trio.

A clever Muggle witch.

Emerald green eyes.

Fiery red hair.

Everyone is tearing open his wounds.

(End of this chapter)