I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 311 The Well-Organized Fairy Brotherhood

"Alastor," Professor Dumbledore said after a moment's thought. "Continue searching for goblin strongholds around Hogwarts; I suspect those in the castle aren't all of them."

"Sirius," he said, looking at the dog godfather, "if possible, could you visit the Fairy Kingdom?"

"Of course," Sirius replied affirmatively.

"The championship cannot be paused." At this moment, Crouch finally broke free from his hatred for Moody and shoved him away, even though Moody's alchemical prosthetic legs were incredibly stable.

His push not only failed to push the other man away, but also caused him to take two steps back, yet the indifference on Barty Crouch's face remained unwavering.

He turned and glared at Dumbledore. "McFarlane will take over Ludo Bagman's duties."

"In addition, I will send someone to accompany Black to the Fairy Kingdom."

"Yes," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Hmph—" Crouch said, then flicked his sleeve and turned to walk out the door.

Hamish MacFarlane, who was following him, looked embarrassed. He nodded to Dumbledore and the professors before hurriedly leaving the office with Barty Crouch.

After the two strangers left, Dumbledore called Owen's name, "Owen, come here."

His brows relaxed, and a smile appeared on his face as usual.

"Oh! A job's here?" Hearing this, Owen jumped off his chair.

The old headmaster reached out and rubbed the boy's head.

Complex emotions were revealed behind the crescent-shaped eyes.

The truth about the heir was far more surprising than he had expected.

Ludo Bagman's testimony was negligible, largely consistent with his assumptions.

But the truth revealed by that fairy did indeed overturn his previous view of the successor.

Of course, it was mainly Shani Weasley's memories that corroborated the truth, allowing Dumbledore to truly see the whole story.

"Our enemy is not only powerful, but also very intelligent," the old principal said. "He has a clear understanding of the underlying greed in human nature."

"Yes." Owen nodded; he knew the principal was referring to the Outer God.

Having dreamt all night, how could he not know Zhi's methods?

Even now, when he looks at Dumbledore, his mind is filled with images of the old man's cruel and terrifying nature. The scenes from his dream didn't slowly distort or fade away after he woke up; they remained like ordinary memories.

Hmm—he probably needs to cast a forgetting spell on himself, or extract the memory of that dream from his head, to completely forget it.

What puzzles Irving is why he would have such a dream?

This is clearly the power of Zhi, but where did he get it from?

Hmm—it must have been recently, or even in the last couple of days.

Otherwise, it cannot be explained why he had never had such a dream before.

"I think you should already know the truth from the secret chamber," Dumbledore said, his smile fading and his expression growing serious, a hint of regret in his eyes. "This is unlike anything we've faced before."

He learned a secret from the fairies and Shani Weasley.

It turns out that the power of an heir can be stripped away.

Through some extremely cruel ritual.

All that is needed is flesh and blood, the flesh and blood of the heir, to extract a portion of the ancient magic.

Then, through sacrifice, it is transferred to other people.

The reason the goblins hunted down members of the Weasley family, especially Ron's family, was because they knew that all the previous heirs came from this family. When a new heir appeared, they immediately assumed it was someone from this family.

How did the fairies know that a new successor had appeared?

I'm not sure about that.

The fairy only said that it was the messenger who told him.

Upon learning this truth, Dumbledore almost immediately recalled the kitchen passage, the final resting place of Lady Hufflepuff, and the former heir under the apple tree, the poor wizard named Shani Maeve Weasley.

The reason she chose to die alone in that secret room, which no one would ever find again, instead of reuniting with her family or seeing her children one last time, was that she did not want her body to be taken by demons and become a sacrifice on a table.

"Phew—" Dumbledore took a deep breath.

He felt regret over the previous generation's successors and was even more worried about Irving's future.

Now their enemies are not just Voldemort or goblins.

Rather, it refers to all wizards who are fanatical about magical power.

If this news were to get out, Owen would practically be making an enemy of all wizards in the world. To be honest, if it were when he was younger, or even in middle age, he would have been unable to resist finding Owen, not to harm him, but certainly to take a few drops of his blood.

He couldn't contain his curiosity, because ancient magic might be the biggest clue to the origin of magic. Even if it didn't have any special power, just doing "archaeology" and digging out the truth of the past, he probably would have done it anyway.

Let alone others?

What if Voldemort knew this?

Or perhaps those madmen, the Silent Ones, from the Ministry of Magic?

Or perhaps it's some dark wizard club that's causing such a stir in Italy?

Or perhaps those purgers in North America?

Look how many potential enemies they have.

That's still clear.

Once Irving shows signs of fatigue in the future, those who waver and hesitate will be left behind.

A hunting frenzy was almost within reach, visible to the naked eye.

"More or less," Owen replied. He knew a lot and needed some time to sort it out. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

This is the brain's self-defense instinct; when subjected to a strong, momentary shock, a person becomes listless and emotionally calm.

As for Old Deng's concerned expression.

He could certainly guess what Dumbledore was thinking.

Suddenly, Owen remembered a line from a movie he had seen before: "xxx, don't be so smug. Even if all five major sects gang up on you today, you can't kill them all. Wait until your true energy is exhausted."

He guessed that Dumbledore thought the same thing.

After all, he was wielding a magic wand, not a Maxim gun; the magic he was throwing wasn't bullets.

Even if one's magic power is nearly limitless, people will always get tired.

If it's unlimited bullets

Maxim is definitely the best!

Ahem—Seriously, in the end, it's because I'm not strong enough. If he could wipe out the entire magical world before his magic runs out, who would dare to criticize him?

"You must keep this a strict secret. You must not tell anyone." The fewer people who know about the ability to strip away the ancient magic of the heir, the better. Although Dumbledore trusts everyone present enough, there are no secrets that stay hidden forever. Their potential enemies may have other ways to get them to reveal the truth. He cannot let the truth about the heir become known to everyone in the wizarding world. Human nature is complex, even among friends—Dumbledore glanced at Sirius.

They may also be betrayed.

"Of course, Professor, I have no intention of harming myself." Owen smiled dismissively.

"Hmm—" The old headmaster nodded, then turned around and picked up a broken dagger from his desk.

That was a rather peculiar dagger.

From its appearance, it looks like the wings of some kind of insect.

The handle is some kind of bone, while the blade is made of very thin, almost transparent, prismatic crystal pieces, about the size of a fingernail, pieced together.

A strange, eerie blue light emanated from the cracks in the crystals, giving it an incredibly mystical appearance.

Unfortunately, this is a broken dagger; the blade is broken in the middle, and the other half is missing.

"Keep this safe," he said.

This dagger was the very one the goblins used to cut open the flesh of the Weasleys. As for the broken blade, the other half was still inside the wizard named Shani.

So—this is a weapon that once killed the heir.

Dumbledore initially wanted to destroy it, but after thinking about it, he decided to let Owen decide its fate.

As the current heir, he is the most qualified.

Owen took the dagger from Dumbledore, examined it carefully, and then put it in his pocket.

"Also, regarding Stuart."

The moment the name was uttered, the faces of all the professors in the office turned sour.

Especially the older ones, like Professor McGonagall, reminded her of a wizard named Riddle who used a basilisk to kill an innocent classmate. Now, the girl was using fairies to harm her classmate. There were too many similarities between the two.

If they hadn't discovered it in time, it would be hard not to wonder if the past scene might repeat itself.

"The result wasn't good," he said.

Then he looked at Snape.

Immediately, our dear Professor Snape opened his mouth and said in his uniquely slow, slightly mocking voice, "There is no trace of collusion between Ludo Bagman and Miss Stewart found in Ludo Bagman's memory, and his testimony after the Truth Potion also indicates that he did not know her at all before the Tournament."

"The fairy also has no memory of Miss Stewart, the same testimony as above."

"The information about the castle came from the fairy messenger. And that messenger was probably the fairy who contacted Stuart, but unfortunately, according to the fairy's testimony, the messenger was not involved in the attack, and he wasn't even here."

Snape spoke coldly while observing the expressions of those around him, especially Owen.

When he saw that Irving didn't seem to be affected, a hint of regret flashed in his eyes.

As for the other professors...

Their faces were ashen, especially Professor McGonagall, who was furious, her cheeks flushed strangely, and her eyes were fixed on Snape.

Those attacked were all children from their house. The Weasleys were all Gryffindors. Although the real culprit hadn't been caught, at least the traitor had been caught. But now—from Snape's words, she could probably guess the final outcome.

"This is a meticulously designed organization. From the mole to the informant, to the contact, the planner, the final decision-maker, and the initiator, they are all different people. They have a clear division of labor. Even if we intercept a part of this link, we can't possibly see the whole picture from a small part."

"I have to say, this organization is even more professional than the Ministry of Magic," he said with a hint of sarcasm.

Thank goodness Barty Crouch is gone, otherwise our Minister of Magic would be furious.

Listening to Snape's description, Owen suddenly remembered an organization.

"The Fairy Brotherhood." A name he had heard of a week ago.

This is a fairy-themed terrorist organization with a history of over 300 years.

Unlike the mainstream goblins who believed in peaceful coexistence with wizards, they sought to utterly defeat them.

They have branches all over the world, especially in North America, where the Fairy Brotherhood has grown extremely rapidly as there are no constraints from the Old World in the New World.

I heard it's a very tightly organized group.

"Hmm?" Dumbledore glanced at Owen.

But he didn't say a word.

The child knows more than he realizes.

"So, we have no way to convict that little witch?" Moody tapped the floor tiles with his cane in annoyance. The current situation reminded him of Malfoy 14 years ago.

It's incredibly frustrating to know he's a Death Eater but have no way to convict him.

"Whether she's convicted or not isn't important," Owen suddenly said. "If it's just about 'punishing' her, I think I have 100 legitimate and legal ways to do so."

"After all, this is a championship competition, right? It's normal for some unexpected things to happen."

"If we want to find out who's behind this, we'll need a little patience," he said quietly. "Like we did with Quirrell?"

"It's too dangerous for someone like her to stay at Hogwarts," Professor Mack said first, expressing her dissatisfaction. She glared at Owen, furious at his evil plan, "If we can't convict her, we at least have the right to expel her from the castle."

Albus, we can't gamble with the lives of our young wizards.

"This is not a gamble, Minerva," Dumbledore said calmly. "And they have no chance of winning."

He then looked at Snape and said, "Quirklo's situation is certainly a lesson, so we should do better."

"Understood—" Snape smiled noncommittally.

Then, with a flick of his cloak, he left the principal's office.

Moody also left with them; he had to deal with Batty Crouch, as handing over Ludo Badman wouldn't be so easy.

We should at least get some kind of promise from him.

Professor McGonagall was furious; she couldn't accept the outcome at all. But out of trust in Dumbledore, she didn't press the matter. However, judging from how hurriedly she left, the Gryffindors would probably be quiet for a few days.

Professor Flitwick was deeply worried. The goblins had a profound impact on him. After many years, this was probably the first time he had actively sought out books about goblin history to read. Before that, he had only read about wizarding history.

Professor Sprout was probably the saddest of all, deeply saddened by the discovery of Mrs. Hufflepuff's final resting place and by the Weasleys's daughter. Her steps as she left the Headmaster's office were the heaviest.

Finally, even Irving left; he was going back to sleep.

Today is the weekend.

Soon only Sirius and Dumbledore remained in the office.

They were discussing something, probably making preparations for their visit to the fairy kingdom.

But none of this concerns him.

On his way back to the dorm, at the corner on the third floor, Owen seemed to see Harry, but by then his eyelids were already drooping, so he ignored Harry.

He wasn't sleepy at all when he woke up early, but eating a meal made him doze off.

Back in his dorm room, Irving immediately went to get some water.

I have no classes on Sundays, so I can do whatever I want.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he started having nightmares again.

This time he dreamed that Miss Granger had become the anchor point.

When Irving woke up again, it was already dusk outside the window.

He slept for a whole day.

The dormitory was empty.

The only thing that was moving was a photo of his parents on the bedside table.

They were smiling at him.

"Phew—" He exhaled a breath of stale air.

He was in very bad condition; his eyes were unbearably dry, and he also had tinnitus.

He rubbed his eyes for a long time before the dryness and swelling after opening them slowly disappeared, and the tinnitus also became milder.

"Oh, you're awake!" Just then, Justin walked in from outside.

The moment he met Irving's gaze, a greasy, wicked smile appeared on his face.

"Don't you recognize your old father? Why are you staring at your dad like that?" Owen gave him the middle finger, then started getting dressed, putting on his robe.

"Heh." Justin returned the middle finger, then said with his usual grin, "None of us can stay in this dorm anymore."

Then Ernie came in.

"Hey! You're awake? Did you take some kind of tranquilizer? I couldn't wake you up no matter how I called you at noon," he said with a smile.

"Someone's probably up to no good in their dreams, they won't have time to eat." Justin raised an eyebrow at Ernie. "Miss Granger, Miss Granger, you've been calling me that all day, it's so embarrassing."

"Huh?" Owen scratched his head as he headed to the bathroom to wash his face. "Was I talking in my sleep?"

"Absolutely, and the noise was incredibly loud. We were too embarrassed to stay in our dorm rooms."

"."

Justin and Ernie had smiles on their faces.

But to Irving's ears, the voice suddenly faded away.

It was so far away, it seemed to be on the horizon.

—It seems that he has indeed developed some unexplained health problems.

The fact that he talked in his sleep almost symbolized the failure of his brain obliteration technique.

This is extremely terrifying.

Irving's face gradually turned ashen; it seemed his enemy was a hundred, a thousand times more troublesome than he had imagined.

"Whoosh—" Suddenly he remembered a line from Hemingway's "For Whom the Bell Tolls".

When you're a child, going to war can be a fantasy—that everyone else will die, but you won't.

Then when you are seriously injured for the first time, that illusion will disappear.

Since the second playthrough, Owen has never taken anyone's strength seriously, not even top wizards like Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

Yes—he is exceptionally talented, hardworking, and has great opportunities; the only difference between him and those top wizards is his age.

This is also the real reason why he is fearless and can keep the three unforgivable curses on his lips.

Because he wasn't afraid of those punishments at all.

Even if the Ministry of Magic imprisons him in Azkaban for casting the Killing Curse, would he be afraid?

But now—Outer Gods?

He didn't even know the other person's name, and he didn't even know when he had fallen into their trap; it might have just been a fleeting moment of contact.

However, his opponent was able to easily break through his magic.

What if he wasn't the heir—what if the whispers in his ear really lasted a month, a year, or even a decade?

Can he really win?

This wasn't fear or dread; it was the first time Irving felt powerless against his own strength.

(End of this chapter)