I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 310 Nightmares Come in Pairs

That night, Irving had a dream.

In his dream, he saw Chiron smiling at him with a sinister expression, then slowly tearing away his disguise, flesh and blood falling to the ground, blood splattering everywhere.

Ultimately, it turned out to be an indescribable, disgusting, slug-like creature.

Then, a human face grew out from the top of the slug's head.

Irving couldn't make out the figure clearly, but he was definitely familiar with it.

Upon closer inspection, it was discovered that it was Voldemort's bald head.

Then the slug suddenly exploded, spraying blood mist like rain, turning his entire body red.

From within the slug's corpse, a woman slowly crawled out. She had long silver hair, emerald green eyes, a hunched back, and outstretched her hand as she walked towards him step by step.

"Irving—"

He called out, "Irving—".

Instinctively, he began to back away.

Although he was unwilling to admit it, the 'monster' had his mother's face.

"Stop!"

In his dream, Irving roared loudly.

But he wasn't talking to the monster. The moment he shouted, the young woman seemed to deflate, turning into a skin and bones, like a moving skeleton. Her silver hair fell out little by little, and her pupils disappeared from her eyes.

"Stop!" he shouted again.

Irving's Occlumency technique began to work spontaneously.

Consciousness gradually became clearer.

Yes, he was trying to stop the dream.

This is the power of the Occlumency technique; it allows complete control over one's thoughts. Mastering this technique will prevent you from dreaming, because all your thoughts will be subject to your own control.

But this time—the dream didn't collapse immediately; instead, it continued to change. Then, one character after another appeared, people he knew, Grindelwald, Dumbledore, Hermione, Harry, and so on, like Russian nesting dolls, one dying and then another being rescued.

But what they had in common was that in his dreams, everyone was in a terrible state, as if the most evil souls had been stuffed into the bodies of people he knew.

Someone is tormenting him, using his family, lovers, and friends as weapons.

On the other side...

The same bizarre dream also rose in Harry's head.

He flew and glided through the dark night sky until he reached a tall tower in the sea.

The sea breeze whipped wildly across Harry's face as he flew lower and lower until he finally crash-landed on the top floor of the tower.

Then, his gaze seemed to linger on someone, moving downwards along the black marble corridor. Step by step, he descended.

Then it seemed like he came to a room.

The room was filled with some kind of grayish-black plant, clumps the size of fists, with well-developed root systems.

As his gaze continued forward, his eyes finally fell upon several pieces of furniture.

A man with a cold and stern face sat on a black chair.

"Oh! Master, I didn't notice." The man immediately stood up the moment he saw 'Harry'.

He bent down, gave up his spot, and obediently stepped aside.

"The goblin invasion plan failed?" Harry's voice was cold and cruel. "Those idiots."

"This is crucial for our plans—"

"Our plan is foolproof, Master," the man said slowly. "No one will notice us, not even Dumbledore."

"Alright," 'Harry' continued in a cold, icy voice, "but perhaps I should remind you, I can't tolerate any more mistakes. You know how important the next part of the plan is, and if you mess it up..."

"No, Master." The man quickly prostrated himself on the ground, facing downwards.

Harry stretched out a hand, which looked like some kind of pieced-together fragment of flesh and blood, and when it touched the man's shoulder, some kind of deep red fluid would drip down. "How's it going in North America?" His tone suddenly became calm, full of a leisurely and deliberate quality.

But the man crawling on the ground did not show any disrespect because of the change in his voice. "The fairy messenger has contacted us. The plan is progressing steadily. We will soon get what we want. In addition, our pawns in the Ministry of Magic are also developing their covert operations rapidly. No one can resist that power. There are quite a few people in the Ministry of Magic who want to join our ranks now."

"Is that so?" the cold voice said again. "It seems everything is moving in a positive direction."

As he spoke, he suddenly walked towards the plants, picked a flower, crushed it, and took a deep breath of the remains.

"What a beautiful death!"

Then a strange power surged within him, and Harry's scar suddenly began to burn, followed by excruciating pain, as if every nerve was on fire.

The next second, he suddenly opened his eyes and found himself still lying on the comfortable and soft four-poster bed.

Harry covered his face; the scar still burned painfully, bringing tears to his eyes.

This pain is real; it's not a dream.

He curled up in a ball, and after a long while, when the pain in his forehead subsided, Harry gasped for breath and came back to life.

"just--"

Although he never saw the person's face, Harry had a premonition, a tacit understanding, that he seemed to have become that person.

He is carrying out several evil plans.

"Damn it," he muttered, getting out of bed.

In the dim light, Harry fumbled to put on his glasses, glanced at the clock on the wall, and saw it was only a little past five in the morning.

On the four-poster bed next to him, Ron had his head covered and was snoring softly under the covers, his clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor.

Across from them, Neville, Dean Thomas, and Seamo Finigan remained completely still, lost in their own dreams.

Suddenly, a bizarre feeling welled up in Harry's heart. It was as if he had just become Voldemort and witnessed his evil plan firsthand. This was the first time in over a year since last year that his wounds had burned and ached.

The time span was so long that he forgot his scars could hurt.

And what about his roommates?

But he lay peacefully in bed sleeping, without any reaction.

"Phew—" Harry exhaled, wrapped in his robes, and went to the window.

The castle outside was pitch black and looked eerie and frightening. Although the two-month-long snowfall had finally stopped, Harry wished it would continue.

At least the snow falling in the dark was more reassuring than seeing the two of them in complete darkness.

He rubbed his scars, not sleepy at all.

He was wondering whether he should tell Dumbledore about his scars.

Or perhaps Kyrie Irving?

Knowing so much will definitely bring me different perspectives.

That's what Harry thought, and then he leaned against the window, quietly waiting for dawn.

Early the next morning.

The dormitory suddenly became noisy.

The chattering sounds, accompanied by shouts and incredulous cries, woke Irving, who was struggling with a nightmare in bed.

"grass."

The man slowly woke up and, with the slightest movement, realized that his body ached all over, as if his body had secretly run 10,000 meters while carrying him the night before.

"Fuck you." Owen rubbed his head, his condition was extremely poor after being tormented by a nightmare that was almost like sleep paralysis all night.

Meanwhile, that idiot Justin was still yelling and screaming in my ears.

Immediately, despite the muscle soreness, he grabbed the rattan cane (bed curtain) beside the bed and gave the guy a good beating.

Although you rescued me from a nightmare, and I should thank you, you disturbed my sleep, so I should still beat you up.

After venting my anger.

Irving, on the other hand, couldn't fall asleep. His head was spinning, like he had a bad cold, but he tossed and turned in bed for another half hour without feeling sleepy at all.

"grass!"

He got up angrily.

A pair of gray eyes emitted a deathly light, startling Justin so much that he jumped up and rushed out of the dormitory in three steps.

With no other options, Irving, who was seething with anger, decided to have dinner in the auditorium first.

Perhaps people get sleepy after eating a full meal.

On his way to the Great Hall, from the moment he stepped out of his dormitory, every young wizard he encountered was in pairs, chatting about something.

When Owen arrived at the Great Hall, the noise grew even louder. Durmstrang's young wizards, all radiant and full of energy, were shouting loudly and boisterously.

Then he saw the huge torch that represented Durmstrang burning brightly.

This means that Krum has successfully completed the game.

???

Irving was quite surprised.

Then he looked out towards Iphamoni.

Sure enough, they all looked confused and anxious.

Many young Hogwarts wizards were also quite puzzled.

But many more people wore expressions of schadenfreude.

Look at you guys—you're really bad. You even managed to get first place by lying about the information. It's so embarrassing.

Of course, aside from the usual disdain for Iphamoni.

The young wizards at Hogwarts also began to feel a sense of urgency.

Where did Krum get his intelligence?

Surely it wasn't Koyatl who told him that?

If even a third party like him knows about the game's details, does that mean that the other Warriors also know?

Why doesn't Miss Granger go and try the challenge?

And Cedric?

This left them deeply confused.

But even more worried than the young wizards at Hogwarts were the Beauxbatons.

After all, Hogwarts has two champions; it's impossible that they couldn't complete all the challenges.

As for themselves—

Furong had a headache.

To be honest, wizards from other schools didn't have much of an advantage when it came to the secrets of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts Castle is huge. Much bigger than Beauxbatons Manor.

Even though Owen explicitly states that you should go to the castle ghost (Monnery) to learn the way to the secret chamber (Gandalf was seen by Monnery fighting the Basilisk),...

I can't find the so-called entrance myself.

For Irving, the clues in the golden egg were already close to their limit. Furthermore, the clues from other schools were complete; unlike Hogwarts where you had to find the entrance and know Parsley to open it, Moaning Myrtle directly tells you the location and how to open it.

What more do you want from this situation?

He can't exactly lead the Warriors to the restroom and say, "The entrance is right there!"

If I'm stupid, who can I blame?

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Cedric faced no fewer difficulties than Fleur.

As a champion of Hogwarts, his hints were vague.

Moreover, even if he found the entrance to the secret room, he wouldn't dare to enter rashly without knowing what was inside.

Of the five champions in the tournament, he was the least advantageous. Although his own school had a cheat code and a referee, he was already in the shape of the Gryffindor witch.

That guy is spending more time with Harry and the others now than he did in the Hufflepuff common room.

Instead of relying on him, you might as well pray that you trip and fall and discover the entrance to the secret room.

As for his dean, Professor Sprout has suddenly become very busy these past two days. He went to see the professor yesterday and this morning.

Professor Sprout was not in the greenhouse at all.

He learned from the ghostly fat monk in the lounge that, apart from resting at night, the professors discussed matters in the principal's office.

It is a very important matter.

This left Cedric feeling desperate.

This was bad news, because if Professor Sprout didn't have time to help him, he would truly be all alone in Hufflepuff.

Hibiscus has a significant advantage in this regard.

Although her intelligence lacked the skill of reasoning.

As a wizard of the most traditional kind, she couldn't even solve a quadratic equation. The potion reasoning left by Snape in the Philosopher's Stone level in her first year was enough to overwhelm her.

However, she is very fortunate to have a good best friend.

Miss Granger was a self-disciplined person; she was strict with herself, but with others—according to Harry's weekend homework, which heavily borrowed from Hermione, Hermione was simply the kindest and most generous witch he had ever met.

Therefore, Fleur easily obtained a straightforward clue about the Chamber of Secrets from Hermione.

As for Fleur, she already knew that she had little chance of winning the championship, and she also knew that Hermione must have figured it out, otherwise, no matter how good their relationship was, she would not have easily given him a hint for the sake of the school.

However, Fleur was still grateful to Hermione for preventing her from having to leave the game in despair without even finding the level.

This ending is so shameful.

She kissed Hermione on the cheek, said many words of thanks, and then went back to prepare for the challenge.

Sure enough—on the morning of the third day, the fourth warrior who successfully completed the challenge appeared.

With the Infinity Gauntlet in hand, Hibiscus handled the second level with ease and pleasure.

But that's a story for another time.

Irving didn't have much of an appetite for breakfast. He ate four chicken legs, two bowls of pumpkin porridge, and a whole meat pie before quickly finishing his meal.

Then, just as he got up, intending to go back to his bed in the dormitory to savor the meal...

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall walked over from a distance.

"You don't need to say anything more, I understand!"

Before the professor could speak, Irving nodded, indicating that he understood why he had come to see him.

No need to guess, even a fool would know it's Dumbledore looking for him.

Hmm—Poor Professor Meow Meow, a dignified vice principal, has now become a messenger.

Hmm—when I become a school principal, I'll find a pretty girl to be my errand girl.

On the fourth floor, at the entrance to the principal's office, after guessing the password, the spiral staircase slowly rose, and Owen jumped up to the eighth floor.

The oak door to the principal's office was pushed open.

Everyone inside was present, including the Dean of Magic and Minister for Magic Barty Crouch.

He was discussing something with Dumbledore.

Moody was also present. The old Auror's eyes never stopped scanning the expressions of those around him. Ever since Ludo Bagman came along, he now felt that everyone looked strange to him.

Besides, there was an unfamiliar wizard with Barty Crach. Owen didn't recognize him, but he looked familiar. After a moment, he remembered who the wizard was.

Hamish McFarlane, a former player for the Montrose Magpies, served as the Director of Magical Sports after retiring and was Ludo Bagman's recommender.

He was the one who brought Ludo Bagman to the forefront.

Tsk tsk—they're rushing over here now, they must be really in a hurry.

"I will send someone to investigate this matter, Dumbledore. We cannot afford to be enemies with Gringotts," the minister said in a low voice, his face dark.

Owen, on the other hand, was very outgoing. After entering the office, he found a chair and started secretly eating the candy that Dumbledore had left on his plate.

Lemon Snowball - Durian Flavor

After eating one, Irving quietly put the bright orange candy back on his plate.

"It's not a question of whether we want to be enemies with Gringotts, but that they are already enemies with us." Moody's cane pounded the ground, revealing the urgency in his heart.

"They are not our enemies." The minister glared at Moody.

"Fairies are not a monolithic group; not all fairies obey the kingdom's orders."

"Furthermore, this matter still needs to be investigated, and evidence needs to be gathered to determine whether it is a conspiracy by the Fairy Kingdom against the wizard."

"Gather evidence?" Moody laughed. "By the time you gather evidence, others will have already stormed into Lady Primpinier's Beauty Potions Shop!" he said sarcastically.

It was a beauty potion shop located at 275 Diagon Alley, dedicated to solving witches' problems with spots, sores, and acne.

It's a place frequented by the wives of high-ranking officials in the Ministry of Magic.

Moody's words were a sarcastic jab at a large group of people, and by extension, at Crouch, whose wife had passed away. Ever since her rebellious son was imprisoned in Azkaban, the poor woman had spent her days in tears and soon died of depression.

"What did you say!" Crouch rushed over, grabbed Moody by the collar, and glared at him fiercely, as if he wanted to devour him.

"Enough!" Dumbledore stood up from his desk.

He frowned. Crouch's concerns were not unfounded; the economic lifeline of the magical world was now in the hands of fairies.

Once war breaks out, the wizards' wealth accumulated over countless years will vanish, as goblins can freely open your Gringotts vaults.

The key is merely a means of authenticating wizards; it's not a problem for fairies.

Moreover, Crouch is right. The fairies are not a united front. The fairy kingdom is generally neutral towards wizards. In addition, there is an organization called the Fairy Brotherhood, which is hostile to wizards. Of course, this is only a historical record. No one knows what the fairies' current attitude is.

(End of this chapter)