I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 297 A Conspiracy in the Dark (8,000 words)

A short while later, he came running back, leading a pretty girl by the hand.

The little witch lowered her head, looking nervously at the elegant woman in the center of the room.

Of course she knew that Wenda was Irving's grandmother.

That's why I'm so nervous right now.

However, it was clear that Hermione's worries were unfounded, because Vynda was not interested in her at all, or rather, she was not interested in anything. If it weren't for Grindelwald's orders, she wouldn't be here.

"Oh, hello, Miss Granger, hello." Compared to Wenda's indifference, Owen's aunt seemed very enthusiastic.

She stood up first, reached out her hand, and wrapped Hermione's two hands in her wrinkled hand, her expression extremely excited.

"Hello." Hermione frowned slightly. The old woman's grip on her hand was a bit heavy, but she still refrained from pulling it away.

"It's so good to see you, Miss Granger. I've heard your name often in France." Behind his great-aunt, the middle-aged man was also very excited. The young wizards in Hogwarts were unaware of what was happening outside. Although everyone had some guesses about Miss Granger's fame, no one really knew exactly how far it had spread.

Now that this French gentleman has spoken, we can finally know that she has at least traveled as far as Paris.

Even, perhaps it was just my imagination, Irving always felt that his great-aunt was being a little too excited.

Hermione is undeniably outstanding, but she shouldn't have been so moved; her great-aunt's eyes were practically gleaming with envy.

It was quite frightening to watch.

His eyes, in particular, kept scanning Hermione and Owen, finally settling on Miss Granger's lower abdomen.

His face immediately lit up.

The implication is quite obvious.

In a daze, Owen suddenly realized that the so-called identity as Godric Gryffindor's heir might not be as simple as he thought. In the eyes of these pure-blood families, this identity was far more precious than anything else.

Voldemort was able to gather a large following by virtue of his status as a Slytherin successor and form the precursor to the Death Eaters.

This seems to offer a glimpse into the influence that wizards with such bloodlines have on pure-blood families.

"Hmph." Owen snorted softly; he seemed to have made a good move.

His thoughts began to race.

Five seconds ago, he was completely indifferent to the Rozier family. To Owen, Rozier might not even be as important as the roadside weeds, at least the weeds could cultivate one's character.

He had absolutely no interest in controlling such a large family; in fact, he couldn't even be bothered to manage Hufflepuff, leaving Cedric to do most of the work, unless the professor assigned him to do it.

But now—perhaps he could try taking control of a family? That way, he might be able to act as an inside man when Miss Granger purges the pure-blood families?

In short, he suddenly had this idea, and maybe he would give it a try; it was a good path.

Inside the room, his great-aunt was talking to Miss Granger, who, along with two Roziers behind her, were speaking English with strange accents, showing her concern and care.

At the height of his emotion, his great-aunt pulled a strange object from her bosom and handed it to Hermione. It was a headdress, probably a wedding veil.

"This is what Kyrie Irving's mother used when she got married," she said.

Although it may not be very precious, it has important symbolic meaning.

This whole scene was witnessed by Irving.

Gradually, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, carrying an almost imperceptible smile.

That smile encompassed many things. To the average person, the scene before them seemed like an elderly elder bestowing blessings upon a younger generation, but if one were to put oneself in the shoes of another, it was also like decaying pure blood offering its loyalty to a newly emerging class.

A series of coincidences brought several people together here, each with their own different purposes.

It seems like they're each getting what they want, but in reality, from the moment they stepped in, Rozier's fate was no longer in their own hands. When you try to place your hopes on someone else, all illusions become mere bubbles, fragile and easily shattered.

"Grandma~~~" Owen's expression suddenly changed drastically, like a morning glory suddenly opening its petals. Then, with a sweet voice, he went straight to Wenda's side.

"Aren't you going to say something?" He blinked, his bright eyes using a cute charm.

Although his relationship with his grandmother can be described as terrible, after all, they were like lovers who were fighting each other last semester.

But it doesn't matter, he's thick-skinned. He doesn't care. As long as he's not embarrassed, what does it matter to him whether others are embarrassed or not?

"Um?"

Wenda held the coffee cup, and ripples appeared on the calm surface of the tea.

Her hands trembled slightly.

Honestly, being stared at by a child with a face that looks almost exactly like yours with that kind of expression is a really strange feeling.

It felt like a younger version of myself making faces.

However, having seen her share of storms, Wenda only swayed for a moment before snapping back to reality.

"What do you want?" she asked calmly, her gaze fixed on Owen, whose hands were resting on the armchair, a strange look in her eyes.

"Land deeds, Galleons, experimental data, alchemical artifacts, secret messages from the past—anything is fine with me! I'm not picky!"

"Hehe—" She leaned back, her left hand resting on the armrest, her silk dress cascading like water. Wenda raised her head, looking down at Owen. "Anything?"

"Mmm-Mmm—anything is fine."

"Then, shall I take you to see your mother?" She swirled her teacup, the ripples on the water reflecting her inner thoughts.

"Uh—" Owen looked disgusted. "No need for that. We'll meet again eventually, it doesn't have to be this soon."

"It's always better to be quick," Grandma said in a gentle, admonishing tone, her red lips slightly parted. "It can help me solve a lot of problems and worries."

"The way you put it makes it sound like you rarely cause trouble," Owen said, a new smile blooming on his face. "Besides, are you sure you can send me to hell?"

"You can give it a try."

"Then I will definitely bring you along, and then our family will be reunited and we'll be happy together."

"hehe--"

"hehe--"

Both of them gave a mocking smile.

Wenda only wanted to cast a killing curse on the little monster in front of her.

As for Owen? He really wanted to use his mind to see what unforgettable things had happened in the past few decades that made her hate him so much.

"Oh, right." Owen's expression changed again, completely oblivious to their previous confrontation. "So what are they here for?"

He pointed to Rozier and the other two, who were still entangled with Miss Granger.

"Swann has chosen you to be the new head of the Rozier family. They've come to see for themselves," Wenda replied coolly.

"Look?" Irving asked doubtfully. "Am I a baboon? What are you looking at? Besides, it's been a year already."

"This is Swann's will, which forbids any Rosier from coming to Hogwarts to bother you before you come of age," she continued. "It was part of her plan to avoid arousing Dumbledore's suspicion."

"And them—" Owen pointed to the three people in front of him.

"They came for something else."

"Something else?"

Wenda fell silent. She was reluctant to have much contact with Owen, even though they were related by blood.

Seeing this, Irving could roughly guess what was going on.

Although he didn't know the true nature of his grandmother's relationship with the Rozier family, it was obvious that it couldn't have been friendly. The only person who could make her lower herself and contact those people she didn't want to associate with was his grandfather.

His grandfather left Hogwarts yesterday—or possibly this morning.

As for where they went—that's easy to guess. With Koyatl around, the most likely scenario is that they went to North America.

Does the Rozier family still have branches in North America?

Owen wasn't aware of the details. But what he did know was that since the Salem witch trials, subtle changes had begun to occur in North America's native magical population.

The Salem witch trials, according to Theophilus Abbott's *A History of Magic in North America*, refer to a series of trials held between 1692 and 1693 in the Muggle colony of Massachusetts against those accused of witchcraft. (Based on true events)

This incident resulted in the execution of 20 people, most of whom were women.

Theophilus Abbott believed that many of the so-called Puritan Inquisitors were descendants of the Puritans who deliberately incited Muggles to arrest, try, and burn innocent women at the stake for amusement and revenge against their deep-seated grievances in the Americas.

Of the 20 unfortunate people labeled as witches in this incident, only one was a real witch; the others were ordinary Muggles. It seems that this incident was not serious, after all, this was North America in the 1690s, and it was not unusual for a few people to die.

The problem lies with the media.

European newspapers, led by The Prophet, reported extensively on the trial with a gloating attitude, portraying North America as a desolate wasteland and an evil abyss that devours people without spitting out their bones.

This directly resulted in pure-blood families rarely traveling to the Americas, as they could always obtain news of the Puritans and Suppressors from the newspapers of the magical world. Why would the gentlemen go to such a dangerous place to develop their power? Wouldn't that just let the peasants show up first?

This situation means that the proportion of Muggle-born wizards and witches in the New World is far greater than in other places. Although these wizards generally still choose to marry other wizards and form their own pure-blood families, the pure-blood doctrine that has long been upheld in European magical history is practically meaningless in the Americas.

Therefore, Irving doesn't think the Rozier family has any influence in North America.

You might as well go to Harry Potter instead of them.

The Porter family does have some influence in North America.

The perceptive Wenda seemed to notice the subtle changes in Owen's expression, and she guessed that Owen probably knew something.

But she didn't care. If she could, she would deliberately spread some rumors to lure this curious little monster there, and then use others to kill him.

"Alright, the ball is almost over," Wenda suddenly said to her cousin. "Dumbledore will be waiting for you in the Headmaster's office."

"Make him wait a little longer!" the aunt said domineeringly.

Facing Hermione, her eyes were full of joy. It was hard to tell whether she liked Hermione more as a person, more in terms of her reputation, or more in terms of her bloodline.

In short, her gaze made Miss Granger very uncomfortable.

However, although her aunt said that, her actions betrayed her words; she didn't dare keep Dumbledore waiting for long.

After she said to Hermione her last words, "Come to Paris this summer if you have the chance,"...

He turned and stood in front of Irving. "Where's the family tree?"

Her attitude made a complete 180-degree turn; the joy on her face vanished instantly. "As Gabriel's child, you're not good enough. Your mother was your age."

"Ah~ right, right, right!" Owen said sarcastically, pulling a parchment-like family tree from his pocket. This thing had been in his pocket for over a year. As for his great-aunt's words, he only listened to his grandmother.

Seeing Owen's attitude, his aunt was somewhat displeased. "You should learn more from Miss Granger and not bring shame to Rozier's name!"

"Yes, yes, I will make Rozier great again." Irving said, playing the accordion. "No one understands rise to power better than me."

Looking at the boy's nonchalant attitude, the aunt had lost interest in talking to him. He was just a gloomy boy of fourteen or fifteen, still in his rebellious phase, led astray by Grindelwald and a madman influenced by the Killing Curse. Talking to him about Rosier's past glory was like casting pearls before swine.

With that thought in mind, the aunt looked at Miss Granger again.

Perhaps their children will inherit their mother's talents.

She has begun to place her hopes on the next generation.

Then, she offered Miss Granger a few words of encouragement and concern before leaving the office with Wenda.

"Actually, not all pure-blood families are like the Malfoys, right?" Hermione, holding a veil in her hands, turned to Owen with a blush on her face—was this considered meeting the parents?

"Yes, but not Rozier, only because they are facing you, Miss Granger." Owen walked over, took a thick robe from his pocket, and draped it over her shoulders. The office was not as warm as the auditorium, perhaps because the fireplace had been lit too hastily, or perhaps because of the effect of his spell.

In short, I just hope she doesn't catch a cold.

Then he took the veil from Hermione's hand; the girl's dress had no place to put anything.

"Don't harbor any strange fantasies. The Rozier family of England were among the first pure-blood wizards to follow Voldemort." He took the girl's hand. "Want to go for a walk?"

"Yes!" Hermione nodded.

The two left the office, walked down the corridor, around the auditorium, and slipped out through the exit of the large clock tower beneath the observatory tower.

"Don't let me give this family any reason to be kind to you, understand?" He spoke to Hermione with his head down. "Treat your enemies like the winter wind, without discrimination. The Rozier family is a powerful force within the Federation and will definitely become a stumbling block for you in the future. The pure-blood forces they represent will not easily bow down to you. If, and I mean if, if necessary, I wouldn't mind destroying it."

"But--"

The front door was open, and as they walked down the steps, the fairy light in the rose garden shimmered.

Hermione said worriedly, "They are your family—"

"Those with magical talent are family; those without are bastards, the descendants of damned Muggles, sinners who tarnish the bloodline," Owen said calmly. "If you weren't here today, they wouldn't be speaking to me so kindly. Although her words were already quite offensive."

"You're much better than me," Hermione said, staring at Owen.

The rose garden in front of the castle is filled with low shrubs, ornately decorated winding paths, and huge stone statues.

The statues and trees were adorned with festive Christmas decorations, and the stars twinkled with a golden, magical light.

Hermione could even hear the splashing sound of water; it was a fountain. Looking closely, she could see someone sitting on a carved bench.

"If the headmaster allows you to participate." She looked at the boy beside her and suddenly felt indignant for him—Owen's strength was obvious to all at Hogwarts, even stronger than most young wizards imagined, but she was always the one who took the spotlight, which meant that people outside had no idea that there was an even more powerful young wizard in the castle.

Ok?

and many more.

Suddenly, Miss Granger discovered the key point.

It seems like Kyrie Irving is always there whenever I'm in the limelight.

Could it be that he orchestrated all of this?

"Owen—" she called out, but the response was an even tighter grip on her hand.

"Don't overthink it, Miss Granger." Owen stared at her face and smiled faintly.

They walked through the flowerbeds, where little fairies danced gracefully, fluttering their wings and scattering starlight.

They walked along a winding path through a rose bush.

Look, this must be Dumbledore's work, because the immediacy of Beauxbatons is so strong here. He borrowed the decorations from the garden in front of Beauxbatons' courtyard.

The two walked slowly, thoroughly enjoying this rare moment of solitude.

The further they went, the dimmer the light became. They could see sounds coming from many flower bushes, and through the haze, they could see people kissing.

Those who were even bolder had already fled towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest or into the vast shadow of the castle.

As for what to do?

This brings us to why wizards often get married and have children right after graduation. Perhaps it's because they live in Bengbu?

Miss Granger was a little embarrassed, but influenced by her surroundings, she felt a surge of impulse and temptation.

Irving, on the other hand, made no attempt to hide the direction he was heading—a dark corner where hardly anyone was.

In an instant, Hermione understood his intention. She was both scared and excited, and let him drag her forward.

She felt her face burning red. Fortunately, it was dark enough here, with a sky full of dark clouds and no light at all, except for a few slivers of light from the castle. Even if someone suddenly came over, or even if Owen pressed his cheek against hers—he—he would…

Well, in that case he'll definitely notice his unnatural cheeks.

Thinking this, Miss Granger's cheeks turned even redder.

Unconsciously, as if by instinct, or perhaps because the cold wind was blowing in through the gaps in her clothes, Hermione responded to him, pressing her whole body closer to Owen.

It's as natural and fluid as finding a companion to share an umbrella on a rainy day.

A long time has passed in the blink of an eye.

By the time she regained her senses, they were already some distance away from the castle.

The light here is reduced to a layer of silver frost.

"Owen." Suddenly, the little witch seemed to have discovered something.

She pointed to the shade of the trees in the distance.

Silver frost left a white reflection on the snow, and then a row of fine, chicken-claw-like footprints came into her view.

Hearing the sound, Owen looked in the direction where her gaze was focused.

Through the thick shadows, he could vaguely see two people, one tall and one short, under the shade of a tree.

Immediately, they moved closer.

"You have to hurry. We don't have much time left," the short man in the black robe whispered, his voice sharp as if he were grinding glass with a pebble.

"No one in the castle has found that place yet."

"Someone has definitely been found!" The sharp voice carried a hint of reprimand. "A new successor has appeared, and the 'materials' we've preserved are becoming ineffective. Hurry up, or I'm warning you, the time until the next 'blood sacrifice' is running out, and I can't guarantee you'll have a spot this time."

"I'm trying!" The tall figure spoke in a very hoarse voice, which was probably not his real voice but a disguise made of magic.

Hearing this, the short, dark figure seemed even angrier. "Then try harder!"

"Hoo~" The atmosphere around the two became tense, clearly a superior-subordinate relationship. The shorter one didn't seem to care, and still spoke coldly, "On another matter, how are your preparations going?"

"That's about it."

"Very good—seize him, take him out of the castle, and remember, he is more important than that place; distinguish between primary and secondary matters."

"I see."

"Alright, you can go back now. Don't arouse suspicion."

The sounds from the shade of the trees suddenly stopped. Hiding behind low bushes, Owen pulled Hermione up to look.

He had already drawn his wand.

Sure enough, there wasn't a single year at Hogwarts that was peaceful.

Then a few small fish popped up.

Just as Owen was about to step forward and wipe out the two guys like a whirlwind, Hermione stopped him. "Wait!" she said.

Hermione knew perfectly well that the short, black-robed figure was definitely a goblin.

As for that tall one, could he be a traitor within the castle?

"We need to figure out their purpose first."

"Once I catch them, I'll use Legilimency on them, it'll be the same." Owen turned around again, but the short figure had already disappeared.

I don't know where they went; they probably Apparated and left.

As for the tall one, he didn't return to the castle, but instead walked towards another shadowy area in the woods.

"Hmm—that seems to be true." Hermione thought about it and realized that this was indeed a good method. When dealing with enemies, especially those who might be hostile to her, using this approach was a good idea.

After being influenced by Irving for several years, she is no longer so old-fashioned.

"Wait!" Just as Irving got up, ready to grab the clown jumping around.

One voice, then another, interrupted him.

"What are you two doing?" The deep, mocking voice was highly recognizable.

The two of them quickly turned around.

It really was that person.

Snape.

"We—we're taking a walk, Professor!" Hermione spoke first. She didn't dare let Owen speak first, otherwise he would definitely make a sarcastic remark about Snape, and then the two of them would start arguing. "We ate too much at dinner."

"Heh—a stroll?" Snape sneered as he strode past them, his long black robes billowing behind him.

Its hooked nose was pointed at the distant forest, as if it were observing something.

But at this point, there was nothing left in the vast white forest.

"Hmph—don't let me find out you're plotting something." Snape stared at the two of them, his eyes filled with resentment, seemingly very unhappy that he hadn't caught them red-handed.

"Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, deduct twenty points," he shouted, then brushed past them and disappeared into the vast sea of ​​flowers.

"Uh." Because of Snape's delay, the tall, dark figure had disappeared.

"Never mind," Hermione said with a smile, noticing Owen's displeasure. "They'll definitely do something else, and they'll slip up eventually."

"Fine!" Irving said quietly.

There was no one around now, but the two of them had lost their interest.

Both the two men in black and Snape ruined the atmosphere.

Owen and Hermione returned to the Great Hall, Ron was nowhere to be found, and Koyatl sat alone in a corner. Occasionally, young wizards would ask her to dance, but she would coldly refuse them all.

Ginny and Gabrielle sat with a large group of Beauxbatons girls, Neville and Hannah danced together, and Harry and Justin sat at a table away from the dance floor.

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry asked, looking at Owen and Hermione who had just returned.

"Hmm? He didn't go into the grove?" Owen glanced at Koyatl over there. "She's been in the auditorium the whole time?"

“He’s been there the whole time,” Harry said. “He slipped out not long after you left.”

"Ha—you're not afraid of getting beaten up if you go out alone."

For the remainder of the ball, they sat in a corner discussing the underground chamber, paying no attention to dancing. He had a premonition that the mysterious man they had just met was after the so-called treasure.

One by one, many young wizards came over and invited them to dance.

The main reason is that Krum came over several times, so it seems he wasn't the only one who truly recognized Miss Granger's excellent qualities.

But Hermione rejected them all.

Harry kept glancing at Cho Chang, but whenever he saw her with Cedric, he felt a strong urge to smash things.

Owen urged him to go and invite Cho, but Harry hesitated for a long time before finally shaking his head and not taking any action.

Then Hermione started encouraging him to invite Ginny to dance.

Ginny, who was chatting with Gabrielle, seemed to hear someone call her name.

She silently turned around and saw Harry looking at her.

Then—Owen pulled Harry's chair away and kicked him over there.

Having no other choice, he could only awkwardly walk over and invite Ginny to dance.

The two awkwardly swayed their bodies on the dance floor, finally having no regrets when they grew old and their lives came to an end.

At midnight, the eccentric sisters stopped playing, and everyone gave them one last round of enthusiastic applause. Then everyone went home from the auditorium.

Harry and his friends had drunk too much butterbeer; their faces were flushed and their legs were trembling—what a scene of drowning their sorrows in the dead of night.

Irving strongly suspected that he had drunk the strong beer he had prepared for Miss Granger.

Ron has disappeared somewhere.

In the end, Neville and Seamus carried Harry back to his dormitory. Miss Granger was a little worried—she was afraid that Harry, drunk, would do something embarrassing, and—Owen, you rascal, you actually sneaked in alcohol from outside.

With her cheeks slightly flushed, she glared fiercely at Owen before following Neville and the others back to the Gryffindor common room.

Justin and Hannah went back too; they were tired after playing all night.

Owen was one of the last young wizards to leave the Great Hall.

As the head of the Hogwarts student council, he was responsible for bringing back the young wizards who had hidden in the surrounding woods to prevent them from getting too intimate, falling asleep in the snow, and freezing to death.

Especially those seventh graders, now that they're adults, they can drink high-proof alcohol at will. If they get drunk and do something, only heaven knows. After all, they're wizards, and with their wands in hand, they're capable of anything.

Owen's job was finally over after he caught the fourth disheveled young couple in the garden outside the castle, braving the wind and snow.

"Whatever, I'm definitely going to get Dumbledore to reinstate the Girls' Student Council President next year!" Owen muttered gloomily as he walked across the snow-covered ground. "I can't do all the work!"

The snow started falling again outside. This snow was very strange, lasting intermittently for twenty days. Apart from a few cloudy and sunny days, most of the time it was falling like goose feathers.

It's rare for snow to be this heavy in a winter.

Although the Scottish Highlands are close to the sea and the high mountains create rain slopes, it is rare to see such an exaggerated rain as this year.

I heard that in the Muggle world, the government is carrying out emergency disaster relief, and the Ministry of Magic seems to be providing some assistance as well. In short, it's going to be a tough winter.

"Owen—" Just as Owen stepped into the main building beneath the observatory, a red-haired wizard emerged from the building's shadow.

"Hmm?" He turned around and waved his wand.

Magic activated the bolt, and countless intricate mechanisms fell down, like exquisite mortise and tenon joints, causing the door to slowly close.

Then he turned around and looked at Percy.

You don't look well!

His face was deathly pale, perhaps because of the contrast with the white snow.

Even so, it was still an exaggerated paleness, like a patient who had lost too much blood.

With his sunken eye sockets and bloodless lips, Percy looked terminally ill. The only thing you could think of at first glance was when he would collapse.

"It's not just bad!" Percy emerged from the shadows. "It's absolutely terrible!"

The two walked side by side down the corridor at the foot of the tower, heading towards the direction of the auditorium.

"I was attacked."

This is an extra chapter for reader "Yeah, you're right." I'll add the rest tomorrow. ┭┮﹏┭┮

(End of this chapter)