I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 325 Time Flies, the Third Match Begins

Although Dumbledore himself knew perfectly well who the heirs of ancient magic were, outsiders did not.

So how do we determine if a child is an heir?

The old headmaster, his mind racing, slowly rose and walked to his desk, his eyes glancing at the crystal wand on it.

For ordinary people, the stronger a child's magical talent, the more likely they are to be an inheritor of ancient magic.

Although the goblins who broke into Hufflepuff's resting place already knew Granger was not the heir, they shouldn't have had time to spread the news because they arrived just in time.

So, in Tom's opinion, who among the little wizards is most likely to be the successor?

The answer is self-evident.

He sat down slowly, his eyes shining.

So now, how will Voldemort get both children out of the castle at the same time?

Immediately afterwards, the old headmaster noticed a stack of parchment beside him, which contained the contents of his discussions with several other headmasters regarding the third match.

It's about diving into Black Lake to rescue your companions.

"I see--"

Through all the steps, it seems that someone had already planned all of this before even deciding to hold the semi-finals.

What a brilliant plan!

"Professor." The three children surrounded him. Hermione looked at Dumbledore in confusion. "What? Oh, I see. What did you think of?"

"No—Miss Granger." The headmaster smiled at her, "There are some things I need to think about some more."

"Oh, right." He suddenly turned his head and looked at Ron.

The child was staring at the crystal wand on his table.

"I heard your wand is broken, Mr. Weasley."

"Ah!" Ron snapped out of his daze and nodded blankly. "Oh! Right." With that, he pulled out his wand.

It was a wand about fourteen inches long, made of willow wood and unicorn hair, with a conventional design and a somewhat pitted surface.

At this moment, there was a crack about five or six inches long on the wand, and you could even see the unicorn hair inside through the crack.

"Hmm, it looks like it can no longer be used," Dumbledore said after taking a look.

His wand not only had a crack in the shaft, but the core was also severely damaged. The unicorn hair was somewhat dull in color, as if it were obscured by something.

This is precisely the mark left by dark magic.

The wand made of unicorn hair belongs only to the purest wizards; it cannot tolerate even the slightest trace of dark power.

Ron's wand is practically useless now.

Moreover, having already ruined the unicorn's fur, his next wand will never be a unicorn wand again; he will have to choose a new wand from dragon nerves and phoenix tail feathers.

"Try this."

Dumbledore pointed to the crystal wand on the table and said...

"Huh?" Ron was a little confused.

But with the old headmaster's encouraging gaze, he still reached out and took the magic wand.

This is the heir's magic wand.

Both Dumbledore and Hermione knew that their wands were completely unusable by others.

Before Owen's wand grew crystals, he often boasted that his wand was the most loyal wand in the world because no one but him could use it, which made him extremely proud.

Now they finally know why.

Ron picked up the wand with a somewhat complicated expression. After learning the weight behind the wand, he felt a complex mix of emotions towards it.

On the one hand, he greatly envied the wand and the achievements of its owner—listen to that—a wizard hero, what a magnificent title.

On the other hand, he was also afraid of the disaster that the magic wand would bring, thinking of his great-grandmother.

"call--"

"Flash!" Ron waved his wand.

The next moment, a bright light rose from the tip of the wand.

"This!" His eyes widened in disbelief as he held the wand in his hand. Of course, he knew the properties of the other crystal wand, Owen's wand.

He felt from the very beginning that he could light up the magic wand.

"It seems your ancestors left you with more than just honor." Dumbledore smiled and nodded. He probably guessed that the Weasley family must have inherited some ancient magic.

After all, the blood of several generations of heirs flows in their veins.

"Professor!" Ron put the wand back.

Just because I can use this wand doesn't mean I can use it.

He preferred his own wand to others'.

Furthermore—Ron was unwilling to bear the heavy responsibility behind this wand.

He didn't finish his sentence, but lowered his head as a sign of refusal.

"It's alright," the professor replied. "Alright, if there's nothing else, you can go back now!"

Dumbledore didn't criticize Ron's choice.

They are still just children.

I can't be too demanding of them.

Hearing Dumbledore say this.

The trio exchanged a glance, then turned and walked out of the principal's office side by side.

The moment Miss Granger pushed open the oak door, she suddenly turned around, glanced back at the professor, and was met with his firm gaze and a slight nod.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The day after the attack.

The Daily Prophet gave extensive coverage to this matter.

They seemed to be coerced into publishing the news so hastily.

As expected, a huge uproar ensued in the magical world.

Especially now, at this crucial moment in the competition.

Suddenly, everyone's worries shifted from themselves to the children.

Various pressures followed one after another.

At the eye of the storm, Hogwarts remained unmoved. Dumbledore also displayed unprecedented calm, as if nothing had happened.

The castle neither added a guard nor stopped the game.

However, the third match, originally scheduled for the end of March, was inevitably affected and had to be postponed due to strong complaints from several other principals.

This postponement means there won't be enough time to hold the fourth match.

The school, professors, principals, the Ministry of Magic, and other factions were locked in a month-long wrangling.

Ultimately, it was decided in early March that the fourth match of the championship would be cancelled.

The third event has been rescheduled for early May.

The game content remains unchanged, as Dumbledore requested.

The competition is a points-based system, consisting of three matches, with the player with the highest score winning the final victory.

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Then, time slowly passed.

Like sand that you can't hold in your hand, it will always escape through various cracks.

The warm, moist air currents from the Atlantic Ocean finally broke through the cold vortex of the Scottish Highlands.

The temperature warmed up rapidly, changing every day.

Hogwarts seemed to have become lush and green in the blink of an eye.

During this time, Miss Granger continued to be very busy.

She had many things to do. Besides attending classes, she also had to practice spells, revise her alchemical writings, brew potions, and resolve the conflict between Gryffindor and Evamon.

In a daze, it was as if she had become that person.

Although he was no longer in the castle, it felt as if he was everywhere.

For a moment, everyone felt a little uncomfortable.

There seems to be a ghost in the castle. You might think he's there, but he's not.

He's not here, yet it seems like he's always here.

It's quite like a quantum superposition state.

In addition, the castle suddenly fell silent. It was as if the sound level had dropped from 120 decibels to 70.

It was not lonely or silent, but it was much quieter than before.

This mundane life made everyone feel very uncomfortable.

A complex emotion was brewing in the hearts of the young wizards.

It felt like I had lost something.

Something very important.

In April, patients were transferred back from the St. Mungo's Hospital for the Magical Injuries.

Ultimately, just as Dumbledore had guessed, the healers were helpless; all they could detect was that the two seemed to have fallen into some kind of deep coma.

They couldn't even be sure if the two of them were still conscious in that state of unconsciousness.

They could actually produce a death certificate.

Because their condition was even worse than that of Neville's parents, and those wizards who had been subjected to Lockhart's Oblivion Curse.

Their consciousness has simply been scattered and missing; perhaps, maybe, there is still a way to repair it.

But the two people struck by the Death Curse lost consciousness immediately.

This is no different from death.

However, the body is still breathing.

Of course, only Dumbledore knew these details within the entire Hogwarts.

Even Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout knew that the healers had found a cure; the patients were just too weak and everything would be alright.

everything will get better.

Dumbledore stood in front of the school nurse's room, looking at the nurse's figure by the window, and murmured, "Everything will be alright."

In the days to come.

Every now and then, a little wizard would run up to the school infirmary and peek inside.

For some reason, they always hoped that a mocking voice would suddenly come to their ears, accompanied by laughter and a drawn-out tone, laughing at them for being so bored as to peep at him while he was sleeping.

Perhaps, being grumpy in the morning, he might even grab a few unlucky people and give them a good beating.

Then the castle would come back to life with those few unfortunate screams, instead of remaining as gloomy and lifeless as it is now.

Unfortunately, this somewhat absurd vision has not been realized for several months.

Whenever the young wizards passed by the school infirmary, all they could see was a girl with fluffy, dry, and dull hair.

The boy in front of her never showed the slightest sign of waking up.

Yes—they see it every time.

Now, Miss Granger has one more thing to do.

Staring blankly—at first, she would just come to Irving's bedside every day and stare blankly for a while.

But as the April calendar pages turned, she found herself spending more and more time lost in thought.

Sometimes, she would even spend six, seven, or eight hours on afternoons when she didn't have classes, just sitting by his side in a daze.

On weekends, I would spend the whole day by his side, lost in thought.

She would only snap out of her daze when Harry or Ron called her to dinner.

This has made everyone increasingly worried about her.

With two months left until the competition, they needed someone to stay with her because she might get lost.

Then, I don't know when or how, I appeared in the school clinic.

And so, under everyone's protection and watchful eye, the month came to an end.

It was still a bit chilly near the castle.

Especially in the morning and evening, the wind coming out of the valley can be quite chilly.

However, around noon, when the sun is shining brightly, the temperature is still quite comfortable.

The black lake near the castle had long since thawed.

These days, people often see Krum swimming in the water, which attracts a large group of girls.

They swarmed around the Quidditch star like moths to a flame, their adorable presence almost becoming a striking feature of the castle.

Unfortunately, Krum was completely uninterested in these girls; his attention was entirely focused on the girl who was always gloomy.

He hadn't seen her smile since February.

This put Krum in a difficult position; on one hand, he wanted the boy to wake up quickly, but on the other hand, he didn't want him to wake up.

But as time went on, he genuinely hoped that the other person would wake up soon.

Because in his eyes, Miss Granger had become terribly thin.

Her complexion changed from sallow to deathly pale, her cheeks became somewhat sunken, and her collarbone was clearly visible.

As summer approached, the young wizards changed their clothes from sweaters and cotton-padded coats to thin long robes.

This further exposed her gaunt body.

Sometimes, he even felt that a cold might take away the nearly withered rose.

He wasn't even sure if his opponent had the stamina to finish the match.

Kurum's concerns finally came to fruition in early May.

"Hermione, how are your preparations for the competition going?" In the Great Hall, the noisy young wizards were eating lunch.

Today is May 3rd.

In the auditorium, the professors decorated the room with daffodils and daisies.

Snowflakes and fireworks, the kind of decorations usually seen at Christmas, hung from the crystal chandelier and fell in a shimmering display.

They were celebrating their last match.

The winner will lift the Goblet of Fire in the auditorium tonight.

"No problem," Hermione said casually.

His eyes held an unyielding loneliness.

"I heard it from Sirius," Harry said, handing her a pie and watching her take only one bite before putting it on her own plate.

"The third game is the easiest; you just need to find one thing underwater within an hour to complete it."

"And you also have a map."

"This is such good news." He had intended to comfort Hermione with this, but the effect was not ideal, and even had the opposite effect, making her look even more unhappy.

"Ahem—" Ron tugged at Harry from the side, then glared at him and demanded to know what he was saying!

The reason the earlier levels were so difficult is because they were all orchestrated by Irving, especially the second level. Let's put it this way—it's now impossible for the professors to clean the sewers.

Sirius Black wandered through the pipes for over nine hours and almost didn't make it back. The monsters inside were increasing in number, and recently someone even saw a lobster the size of a car walking through the castle corridor.

The professors were in charge of the content for the third competition.

Without Irving's quirky sense of humor, things are naturally much simpler.

"Uh—Hermione, that's not what I meant." Harry realized what he meant and quickly said, his mood becoming heavy.

"I know," Miss Granger's voice still sounded worried.

She ultimately failed to brew the potion successfully.

I don't know why.

She followed the steps on the parchment exactly as instructed and made no mistakes whatsoever.

But the result was always wrong.

In the end, she had no choice but to go to the Weasley twins.

Hopefully they can invent something like a Muggle oxygen mask, something that will allow her to wear it and get through an hour safely.

George and Fred readily agreed to Hermione's request.

They achieved results in less than three days.

"Alright, don't be sad, he'll wake up." Just then, Fred and George came over. "Professor McGonagall wants to see you, Harry."

"Looking for me?" Harry looked up, surprised. "What for?"

"I don't know, but she looked rather serious," Fred said.

"We're going to take you to her office," George said.

Upon hearing this, Harry's heart sank. He realized that the professor had found out about his recent nighttime outings in the castle.

"But—" he said indignantly, "the competition starts at 2 PM, what if the professor puts me in solitary confinement?"

"Then you deserve your bad luck." George reached out and helped Harry up.

He wasn't given any time to think.

"We'll be waiting for you in the stands, Harry!" Ron shouted, and then immediately rushed out of the Great Hall with Simonaway.

They take part in the nighttime stroll.

They didn't want to end up like Harry, suffering a miserable fate.

After Ron left, Fred came to Hermione.

He pulled a small, exquisite leather bag from inside his clothes.

It's somewhat like the fanny packs used by Muggles.

"It contains what you need. We've improved it many times. It's guaranteed to last for ten hours underwater."

"Also, there are some potions inside, all of which replenish stamina," George said from the side.

"Don't worry about breaking the rules," Fred said.

He reached out and touched a pull tab on the left side of the bag. With a gentle pull, the bag suddenly became transparent, as if cast by a magic spell, and then disappeared from Fred's hand.

"I"

"Don't refuse!" Fred interrupted Hermione as she was about to speak.

"Look at yourself now."

"You don't have the strength to dive in Black Lake. This isn't my request; Professor McGonagall ordered you to carry this bag!" he said firmly. "Don't throw your life in Black Lake!"

"Also, there's a book in the bag," he suddenly said in a low voice. "It's a door key. You know how to use it."

"The anchor point is at Hogwarts's gates. If we can't hold on—"

"I can," Hermione said stubbornly, reluctant to accept the purse Fred offered.

"Take it." He forcefully shoved it into her arms. "You don't have to use it, but you must take it with you. Professor McGonagall said so."

Fred looked intently at Hermione, and after she accepted the gift, he turned away without saying a word. He and George each took one arm of Harry and left the Great Hall in a few steps.

(End of this chapter)