I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 309 Anchor Points and Primal Magic

After dinner, Owen urged Hermione to go back to bed.

They were all exhausted, both mentally and physically.

However, Irving is certain that tonight will be a sleepless night for the professors.

He watched Hermione walk up the spiral staircase, watched her go up to the eighth floor, instead of turning around and slipping into the library on the second floor.

Miss Granger's thin figure disappeared completely at the end of the spiral staircase.

Owen walked silently toward the entrance to the library on the second floor.

The Hogwarts library occupies a vast area and has several floors, with the restricted section located on the fifth floor.

The library was already closed by then.

But this didn't stump Irving. In fact, the library doors could be opened simply by saying, "Alahoko!"

It's hard not to suspect that the professor was actually encouraging the young wizards to come out and compete at night.

They tiptoed through the restricted area of ​​forbidden books.

Following traces of ancient magic, Owen once again returned to the most hidden part of the castle.

An underground chamber.

Or—Merlin's Chamber

Inside the underground golden dome auditorium, at the very heart of a forest.

On the stone platform, in that huge mirror, Professor Bridged's portrait was smiling at him.

Sure enough, she was very happy that Owen was able to solve Weasley's mystery.

In fact, she had been searching for traces of her ancestor, Shani Weasley.

But there were still no clues.

It wasn't until after her death, when a new heir appeared a hundred years later, that she told her the secret about the kitchen.

This made Professor Bridged very ashamed, as she, as the head of Hufflepuff, had completely failed to decipher the greatest secret left behind by Lady Hufflepuff.

The elves in the castle weren't just serving the young wizards.

They actually have another identity: the grave keepers of Lady Hufflepuff.

However, as time went by, more than a thousand years passed, and the world changed drastically.

Only one Pokémon remembered its true mission, while the others became house-pocket Pokémon.

Apart from wizards, this could be caused by other factors.

The main problem is that these little elves today do not have a direct bloodline connection with the little elves of a thousand years ago.

For over a thousand years, every few years, house-elves from outside the village would be driven out of their homes by pure-blood wizards for various reasons, and eventually be taken in by Hogwarts.

These house-elves spread the mind of slaves like a virus to other elves, which may be the real reason why they forgot their mission.

As a Hufflepuff, Headmistress Bridged never paid attention to the elves who served her while she was alive.

What shamed her was that her grandmother, who was a Gryffindor, had grasped the true meaning of Hufflepuff.

Treat your humblest friend with kindness.

She is more qualified than herself, the Hufflepuff Headmaster, to be the successor to the Hufflepuff Will.

"Good evening, Professor." Owen pushed aside the tree trunk blocking his way and then jumped onto the stone platform.

"Good evening, little bud, you seem to be growing well!" Dean Bridged said with a beaming smile; she hadn't been this happy in centuries.

"Forehead--"

Don't panic, that's how Hufflepuff's wonderful metaphors are.

Professor Sprout also spent his days worrying about whether they were fertilizing properly (eating well) or pruning branches (getting haircuts), and so on.

"Very impressive! Calm and collected, just like I was back in the day." She said gently, but her tone was somewhat like Ron's when he was bragging.

It was only then that Owen realized the other person was a member of the Weasley family.

"Thank you, Irving, this has fulfilled one of my wishes."

The previous heir could set the tests as he pleased; her decision to send Owen to find the Weasley family treasure was driven by ulterior motives.

"I'm suddenly feeling a little sad." Dean Bridged smiled, her long, straight red hair cascading over her shoulders, making her look very dignified. "Alright, now it's time for you to collect your prize."

With that, Dean Bridged deftly raised her long, slender fingers, and silver light gathered and dispersed from the painting, eventually disappearing into Owen's brow.

In an instant, a bomb exploded inside his head.

A flood of memories rushed into his consciousness, almost turning him into an idiot; his head throbbed with pain, as if his brains were about to spill out of his nose.

This sensation lasted for a good ten minutes before it finally ended.

This memory is extremely complex, including the combat experience, intelligence, and applications of ancient magic from previous generations of inheritors.

Irving didn't have time to understand all of this.

He only glanced briefly at the previous heirs' mastery of ancient magic.

To be honest, he was like a frog in a well at that moment.

Owen had always thought that ancient magic was like a buff, and in fact it was. As long as he mixed a little ancient magic into his spells, the power of the spells would be increased several times.

Now he realized that ancient magic and wizard magic were two parallel lines, each with its own spellcasting techniques and spell effects.

They should not be confused at all, as that would only obscure the true purpose of ancient magic.

"I know you're having a splitting headache right now." Dean Bridged's portrait seemed a little somber.

However, she still used her magic to cast an unknown spell. Suddenly, Owen's head felt lighter. How to describe the feeling? It was as if someone had sorted the trash in the bin into wet waste, dry waste, and hazardous waste.

Although the total number is the same, it looks much neater.

"Phew—that feels much better." Owen shook his head.

At this moment, memory is like a palace, with each room and each corridor containing corresponding memories.

When he needs it, he can simply search for it by category.

"But I must warn you, Owen." Dean Bridged's expression suddenly turned serious.

"I can sense that the burden you bear is growing heavier and heavier, far exceeding that of us. With the lack of successors for nearly a century, the power of the Outer Gods has reached an unprecedented peak."

From Merlin to a century ago, the power of the veil has never so effectively impacted our world.

It is foreseeable that the enemies you encounter will be many times larger than ours.

This is unprecedented.

"Owen, before you head to the Tower of Divine Gift to confront the Outer Gods, you must find as many anchor points as possible that the Outer Gods are using to infiltrate this world and destroy them. While this won't solve the problem once and for all, it will slow down the Outer Gods' continued growth and may even weaken them. After all, the Outer Gods' power cannot be generated out of thin air; establishing each anchor point requires a massive amount of magic power. Destroying the anchor points may be an effective way to weaken the Outer Gods."

"." Owen rubbed his temples. Although the memory palace was spectacular, the swelling in his head was still there, though much less.

"What...anchor point?" he asked weakly.

"Humans—" she said, then explained in more detail, "cannot enter our world in their physical form, as you should know—but through the illusionary realm..."

The so-called dreamlike state is a state between life and death. It appears within a person's mind and is both reality and illusion.

There, you might see your relatives or acquaintances, and the scenes are varied. The illusion reflects a person's innermost self.

Outer gods will use the words of your loved ones to tempt you when you are least expecting it. Regardless of their purpose, once you accept the power of the Outer God, you will become a vessel for the Outer God. It is like a parasite, clinging to your soul and drawing sustenance from your thoughts and emotions.

Thus, an anchor point is born: the Outer God will understand everything in the present world through your eyes and senses. More likely, it will seek out the divinely ordained towers of the gods and destroy this spear that hinders its invasion of our world. Once many divinely ordained towers are destroyed, we have no chance of winning in direct confrontation with the gods.

"Humans cannot kill the God of Death, not even his successor."

"Wait—" Owen suddenly frowned and exclaimed, "Mystic Realm—I think I remember this."

It seems like Teacher Chiron was before.

"What's wrong?" Dean Bridged noticed his confusion and asked.

"Before," Owen said, recounting his encounter with Chiron in the centaur tribe.

"He said that if I destroyed some altars, I could stop the arrival of the Outer Gods. Now you want me to protect the Divine Tower, and he wants me to destroy the tower. I'm a bit schizophrenic, so what am I supposed to be fighting? Are the altars, the tower, and the Divine Tower all the same thing?"

"..." Dean Bridged looked at him solemnly, "I just said that the Outer Gods will use the words of your relatives to tempt you when you are least on guard."

"What do you mean?"

"If you insist on asking for my opinion, I can only say that I don't know," Dean Bridged continued. "Gods is a general term, and there are so many so-called deities. If some of them left behind some kind of backup plan, like the centaur's spiritual space that you mentioned, it's possible."

But you need to be extremely cautious, because perhaps that so-called Chiron is actually an Outer God?

Perhaps Chiron is real, while the Outer God disguises himself as your mother; are the real and the fake mixed together?

Perhaps the tower he's referring to is the Divine Tower, and he's tempting you to destroy the mark.

Perhaps the towers and altars he refers to were built by puppets in the dark ages before Merlin to communicate with the Outer Gods?

You must always remember that nothing you see in the spiritual realm can be completely trusted.

"But my ancient magic was bestowed by the centaurs, before..."

"Ancient magic is innate," Dean Bridged corrected him. "Magic began to gather in your body before you were born. But to unleash magic, a trigger is needed, mostly during a period of intense mental fluctuation."

Perhaps Chiron truly was a projection of an Outer God. He invaded your mind, thus triggering the resistance of the ancient magic within you. But when he discovered you were the heir, he changed his mind and used a set of words to bewitch you.

"Phew—" Owen's brows furrowed. If that's what they're saying, what should he believe?

"Perhaps his so-called centaur blessing was just the activation of ancient magic within me, and he's still a good person?"

"So—Owen, that's the most terrifying thing about the Outer Gods. Once you let your guard down, you can't even trust your own memories."

"So what should I do?" Owen asked coldly. "About those anchor points?"

He was a man of action from beginning to end. Rather than just speculating, he wanted to verify things himself. He wanted to confront the Outer God and see what methods he had.

"Find those people," Dean Bridged said. "Those who have been bewitched are mostly delirious and act mad because they hear the whispers of the Outer Gods in their ears all day long. It shouldn't be difficult to find them—there is a solution in the ancient magic transmission we just heard, a method developed by Merlin."

"Insane, behaving erratically?" Owen's face stiffened. "That sounds like Voldemort."

"But Dean, times have changed!"

"Maybe there were few lunatics like this in your time, but now there are lunatics like this everywhere."

"."

"There are very few Death Eaters who are of sound mind and behave insanely."

"."

Headmistress Bridget knew about the organization; she had more than one portrait of herself at Hogwarts, painted in the Chamber of Secrets. She had heard of it in other places, such as the Hufflepuff common room, when young wizards talked about the Death Eaters.

"It is a bit troublesome—" she frowned, "but there is another way."

"What method?"

"Hmm—" Dean Bridged sighed.

Then the serious expression on her face gradually disappeared, and her demeanor changed from stern to indifferent. She said, "For the sake of the world, I have no choice but to ask these lunatics—to all die!"

She spoke gently, a hint of cruelty in her eyes, "Kill the enemy on sight. This is the way of the heir. To inherit this power is to walk with slaughter. Although it is somewhat cruel, for the world, it is better to kill a hundred innocent people than to let one guilty person go free."

"Hmm—" Owen smiled slightly, "I like this method!"

Although the Hufflepuff Headmistress and Weasley family member in front of me appears to be kind and amiable, her stance should be that of Ordered Evil.

She's ruthless in achieving her goals—perhaps there are other reasons behind her personality.

At that moment, Owen remembered the heir who had died in Lady Hufflepuff's final resting place.

Her ending was so tragic. This definitely affected the person in front of him.

However—he did have a bit of a crush on her.

"Oh! By the way, Professor." Since the topic of ancient magic came up, Owen naturally thought of Koyatl Stewart, who also possessed this ancient magic, albeit in small amounts, which was still intriguing.

Is there another way to obtain ancient magic?

"Is there no other way to obtain ancient magic?"

"Hmm?" Dean Bridged looked at him. "You've encountered other people possessing ancient magic?"

"Yes."

After hearing Irving's affirmative answer, the professor fell into a brief silence.

After a moment, he spoke again, "I thought you wouldn't encounter those cruel things until at least after graduating from Hogwarts."

"Owen, what do you think ancient magic really is?"

Suddenly she asked a question.

"Hmm?" Owen thought for a moment. "I used to think this was a legacy left by the gods to fight off the Outer Gods, but now—you mean it wasn't created by them, but has existed since ancient times?"

"You're very clever, making these connections so easily—nowadays, we always refer to ancient magic, using the name 'ancient magic' to describe this power. It seems to be magic from ancient times. But that's not actually the case." Dean Bridged slowly explained, "'Ancient magic' comes from an inscription in the Tower of Divine Gifts, a translation of a primordial rune. Simply put, it means that the wizards of the time of Zeus and Apollo also called it: Ancient Magic."

In the past, the starry sky sent azure meteors, along with destruction, to the world, which are said to have later transformed into the primordial magic—this is recorded in the inscription inside the Tower of the First Manifestation on the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico.

In the research of later successors, especially Merlin, we learned at least that primordial magic reached a climax at a certain time, which corresponded to the process of creating gods in the mainstream magical world. At that time, a group of wizards began to abandon the title of "wizard" and called themselves "gods".

That was a blessed and prosperous era, but sadly, it passed in the blink of an eye.

"."

Owen was stunned by the myth, and he could guess what would happen next with his own heels.

It's simply that the cake has gotten smaller, but the number of people eating it has increased.

He just didn't expect that this would involve the origin of magic.

"The above are all translations of the original runes of the Divine Tower," Dean Bridged said in a deep, ethereal voice, as if an elder were telling an ancient myth to a younger generation.

"translate?"

"Tsk tsk." Owen smacked his lips, sounding rather unreliable.

Who knows if the records are true or false?

"Yes, we know very little about history. Everything we know comes from the translation of inscriptions, but that's not the key. There is a vast amount of magic power inside divinely inspired towers all over the world. If someone accidentally breaks in, although this is almost impossible, the world is full of wonders. If someone does break in, then that person may obtain a portion of the magic power. Of course, they cannot use it, but their body may undergo abnormal changes."

"Ancient magic amplified the physiological functions of organic matter to an exaggerated degree?" Owen suddenly remembered Victor's words, which he always had on his lips.

"Yes, that makes sense."

"What kind of anomaly? Is it obvious?" Owen asked.

"The Forge of a Hundred Forms awakens the magical creature bloodline within a wizard, causing them to grow animal forms, such as buds and horns. There is a dark history here spanning hundreds of years, but it is of no use to you."

"Buds?" Owen stroked his chin; he couldn't see any signs of change in Koyatl Stewart.

"The second method is that you can voluntarily bestow ancient magic upon the other party. This involves the causal principle of ancient magic, which is one of the fundamental principles that constitute ancient magical spells. It makes everything interconnected."

"Huh? What's this about the principle of causality? What's this about fundamentalist principles? Why does this sound like mathematics?"

"You need to spend time learning the knowledge that has just been given to you. This is very important."

Dean Bridged didn't explain, but continued, "As for the third way—"

------

the other side.

In the principal's office.

The cabinet containing the Sorting Hat opened automatically, and the obsidian-like Pensieve floated in mid-air.

The gray-black light scattered across the silvery water.

The cool light shone on Professor Dumbledore's face, making him look very mysterious and serious.

The last trace of memory belonging to Shani's body had been poured into the Pensieve.

That churning blackness is a person's memory.

He had just browsed through that memory.

Viktor is right.

The memories are a jumbled mess, jumping between multiple scenes with no connection whatsoever.

But Dumbledore still saw some disgusting images in these memories—bloodshed and betrayal.

He saw a silver-haired woman celebrating the birth of her child, her most important memory and the first scene of her life.

The old headmaster could clearly sense the happiness in the woman's eyes when she saw that her child had red hair instead of silver.

He witnessed a shameful betrayal; the fairy, using the child as leverage, coldly and cruelly sought to take her flesh and blood.

He saw a mother with tears streaming down her face, holding her cursed child in her remaining right arm.

He saw the witch, leaning on a cane and with only one leg, still betrayed by her best friend, a long-planned dagger plunged into her defenseless body.

He witnessed the most evil, despicable, and despicable aspects of human nature being played out repeatedly.

He saw a heroine who had led wizards to victory in the war against the fairies, her limbs broken, her eyes gouged out, her internal organs eaten, and in the end, they were going to tarnish her reputation.

Even Dumbledore—even he, this legendary wizard who had weathered many storms and witnessed cruelty and bloodshed—felt deeply powerless and angry.

"call!"

The professor gripped the edge of the meditation basin with both hands, his face ashen.

Some people may not be worth saving, but the world is.

Even a flower, a blade of grass, or a ray of sunshine can sometimes be more valuable than a soul.

It seems his judgment was correct; the truth about the heir must never be made public.

An abyss exists among the general public.

Others are hell.

————Back to the underground chamber.

Irving had a cold smile on his face.

He had a rough idea of ​​what was going on, after all, the fairies' actions were too obvious, with those altars, sacrificial magic, and so on.

Today, I only received affirmation from Dean Bridged.

"Then, Dean, what about the second test?"

"I believe you need to grasp at least the fundamental principles of ancient magic before you can proceed to the next test. Based on your talent, I think you should be able to move on to the next stage around this time next year."

"Huh?" Owen was a little disappointed. "It took this long? I think I could master it in a month or two."

Hearing this, Dean Bridged did not discourage him, but instead smiled again. "You can try it first. If there's anything you don't understand, you can ask the portrait in the Hufflepuff common room. If you just want some pointers..."

"Alright." With that, Owen waved to Dean Bridged; he was a little tired.

It's on a spiritual level.

He then turned and left the underground chamber, groped his way back to the Hufflepuff common room in the dark, climbed into bed, and fell asleep immediately.

(End of this chapter)