I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 335 The Cold War, Miss Granger's Changes

In fact, the falling out between Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall was entirely Owen's fault.

He is outspoken and quick-witted.

While in the school infirmary, after hearing about the recent events from Harry, he easily deduced that Dumbledore must have guessed part of Voldemort's plan. He then played along, leading to the events that followed.

Owen even suspected that he had guessed about the door key.

The logic is simple: there are only a few ways to take someone away from Hogwarts.

The door key, on the other hand, is the most discreet and effective method.

On the surface, what he did was undoubtedly gambling with the lives of the young wizards, even though he had done the same thing when he was a first-year student.

But Professor McGonagall didn't know that at the time.

And this time, he miscalculated.

Dumbledore probably didn't expect all nine young wizards to be teleported away; his plan likely only included Hermione and Harry.

He was confident enough that Voldemort wouldn't kill them both immediately, and that Snape might have revealed something about the resurrection ritual to him.

Therefore, Dumbledore understood that Voldemort needed their blood, so he wouldn't kill them immediately, which gave him room to maneuver.

Even bolder.

Snape may have tipped off Voldemort beforehand—at Dumbledore's behest, he informed Voldemort of his impending arrival.

Some say that Dumbledore might have done something to the young wizards.

Owen believed that the biggest reason he was so bold was, besides the information Snape had given him and his own speculation about the situation.

There is another person.

Lucius Malfoy!

Irving hadn't noticed it before, but afterwards, during those few days in the hospital, he suddenly realized that Lucius seemed to have a tendency to deliberately delay.

Dumbledore certainly knew that Lucius was now Grindelwald's man.

Did he take advantage of this?

Ah—in short, the Battle of Azkaban involved eight hundred different parties: Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the Ministry of Magic.

The contest between them is by no means simply a matter of magic.

There are also intellectual ones.

Everyone is making plans; this is a battle with no losers.

Even the Ministry of Magic doesn't think they've lost; at least Barty Crouch certainly doesn't. They've taken back Azkaban and caught Dumbledore red-handed, giving him leverage over him.

He seemed to be the happiest person no matter how you looked at it.

In the hospital room, Harry, Owen, and Hermione sat on the same bed, and he talked about it at length, enjoying the pleasure brought by the difference in their intelligence, completely oblivious to everything else.

Professor McGonagall walked in by sheer coincidence.

It was really awkward.

She came to check on the young wizards' physical condition.

Then the professor's face darkened.

Without saying a word, he turned and left the ward.

Professor McGonagall, enraged, immediately went to the old headmaster and had a huge argument with him.

The professor expressed his deep disgust at Dumbledore's reckless actions and plans that put young wizards in danger, and wondered why he hadn't told her beforehand.

Shouldn't we discuss it with her?

Even if he had a thousand ways to ensure the little wizard wouldn't get hurt, it wouldn't work!

Besides, judging from Irving's calculations, he miscalculated, didn't he?

Look at Harry, and two girls too. Does that mean everything's fine as long as they haven't lost their lives? Is being tormented by the Crucifixion Curse something so trivial?

Professor McGonagall was furious!

She even directly threatened Dumbledore that she would resign.

Given his reckless and arbitrary style, I can no longer work with him.

This matter has caused a huge uproar.

Although the young wizards, apart from Harry and Hermione, had no idea what was going on, many of them saw Professor McGonagall tidying things up in her office.

As the familiar office was gradually emptied, a sense of panic immediately arose.

The Gryffindors were startled!

Ahhhhh, the sky has fallen, the earth has collapsed, Teacher Miao is gone!

Upon hearing the news, Harry, Hermione, Ron, the twins, Seamus, Angelina, and the rest of the Gryffindor group rushed to block Professor McGonagall's office door.

After several rounds of tug-of-war, mutual promises, and genuine expressions of affection, it was perhaps the young wizards' sincere feelings that melted Professor McGonagall's heart. In the end, she did not choose to leave her beloved castle, but only on the condition that Dumbledore assured her there would be no next time.

However, the two maintained a "cold war".

Irving estimates that this cold war will not end until next semester.

------

Another beautiful and pleasant summer has arrived.

The weather at the end of May was already warm enough for the young wizards to wear light clothing.

After his lunch break, Irving was taking a walk in the courtyard.

He held a long parchment in his hand, on which was a complete schedule, which he had designed based on Miss Granger's course schedule for the following year.

I get up at 6:30 every day, exercise for an hour, wash up, eat, go to class, have free time, have lunch, take a nap, go to class in the afternoon, exercise, have free time until dinner, go back to the dormitory at 9 o'clock, and rest at 10 o'clock.

It's packed full.

Of course, although it looks like a dazzling array of items, he actually gave Hermione plenty of free time!

Hogwarts classes start at 9:00 AM, with a standard class lasting only 45 minutes. Classes end at 9:45 AM. Gryffindor only has two classes in the morning one day a week, so most of the time they have an hour and a half of free time before lunch. Afternoon classes start at 1:00 PM, so even if they have three classes, they finish school at 3:45 PM.

Until dinner time at seven o'clock, she had plenty of time to do what she wanted. Miss Granger's problem was that she wanted to learn everything. She had to understand that she had to give up some elective courses, give up some advanced studies of required courses, and plan her time reasonably.

That's why Irving helped her create this schedule.

As for the last month of this year, and summer vacation, he has another schedule, hmm—until September when she enters fifth grade, his goal is to gain her 20 pounds (around 18 catties)!

Before he knew it, he had already entered the courtyard.

The marble floor tiles, reflecting human figures, illuminated the many young wizards coming and going.

The many armored golems that once stood on the walls on both sides of the gate have now been reduced by more than half.

In their place stood more than a dozen burly, silver giants, each about ten feet tall, ancient puppets.

They wielded large bows, longswords, or spears, and from within their headless helmets, it seemed as if a pair of eyes were silently watching the corridor.

"Hey, Kyrie."

The person who greeted him was a Ravenclaw witch.

She has a very robust physique, with shoulders wider than many men.

"Hello." He didn't even look up and walked straight past.

"Sanchez, I have something to ask you!"

Someone else blocked his way.

Owen put down the parchment in his hand with some impatience. "What are you doing, Draco? Go bother your bastard, don't bother me."

He took a step forward, but Malfoy still blocked his way.

"Do you know something about my father? The Dark Lord is back, but he doesn't seem to care at all. He's been writing to me a lot these days, asking me to spend more time with you."

"Hmm?" Owen frowned, then took a step back.

"I'm not interested in men, well—not even women's clothes. So stay away from me, or Miss Granger will give you a good beating!"

Having said that, he stepped aside from Malfoy and walked straight into the Great Hall.

Behind him, Draco was gritting his teeth and staring intently at Irving's back.

He could vaguely sense that his father had some secret, and that this secret was related to Owen, but since the other party wouldn't say, he had no way of knowing.

Irving, on the other hand, swaggered into the auditorium.

It was midday, and sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a golden glow into the hall.

From afar, he saw Hermione sitting on a bench in Gryffindor, discussing something with Harry and Ron.

She must have just woken up from her afternoon nap. She's already been forced to strictly adhere to this year's schedule for a week now.

As he approached, Owen saw that Hermione was clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet, and her expression was quite grim.

It was even somewhat gloomy.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Irving!" She saw him, and her expression instantly returned to normal.

"What else could it be?" Harry chimed in, annoyed. "Look what Rita Skeeter is saying in the newspapers!"

He tossed the newspaper over.

Irving grabbed it casually, glanced at the title, and a cold smile crept into his heart.

Ministry of Magic's crackdown on Hogwarts may lead to Dumbledore's departure from his position as headmaster.

"They actually want to drive Dumbledore away, they're insane!" Ron said, his eyes filled with disbelief.

"Don't worry, this is just a test." Owen skipped over the content. That pointless stuff was just disgusting.

"A test?" Harry said.

"Do you understand the sausage tactic? Today, release the news that Dumbledore is going to resign. Tomorrow, find a bunch of his dirty secrets. Then, contact and monopolize the board of directors, and gradually squeeze him out of the position of headmaster." Owen shrugged and said in the tone of someone who had been there before, "You can't force Dumbledore to resign all at once. The public will strongly oppose it. You have to do it step by step to achieve your final goal."

Hmm—this report is from a week ago; I guess they've already moved on to the next step.

"Then what do we do? We have to fight back. Hogwarts can't be without Professor Dumbledore," Harry said urgently, his eyes wide open.

"Get Luna to publish an article criticizing the Ministry of Magic in The Quibbler, or—" Owen rubbed his chin, "...grab Rita Skeeter."

"Catch Rita Skeeter?" Harry was taken aback. "How can we catch Rita Skeeter? She's not even at Hogwarts."

"Who said she's not here?" Hermione suddenly spoke up. "She's right here."

"?" Harry stared at her. "Where?"

"I've finally figured out how she managed to eavesdrop on other people's secret conversations in places she shouldn't have been." Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly, and a not-so-friendly smile appeared on her lips.

"How did she do it?" Harry pressed.

"How did you figure that out?" Ron asked.

"She's in such a hurry. Remember the week we came back from Azkaban?" Hermione said cheerfully. "Even the Minister of Magic wasn't allowed to question us. Where did she take our picture from?"

"And you didn't notice that those photos were taken at night, when we were asleep."

"So she must have sneaked in," Hermione said, her voice trembling slightly as she suppressed a mixture of smugness and cruelty. "—She's an unregistered Animagus."

"What?" Harry and Ron exclaimed in surprise, "Like Sirius and Professor McGonagall?" they both said in unison.

"That's right." Hermione nodded, then took out a small glass jar with tiny holes at the top from her shirt pocket.

Inside the glass jar were a few twigs and leaves, and a flat, half-dead beetle.

"She can turn into a beetle."

"You're kidding, right?" Ron's eyes widened. "You can't do it without her."

He pointed at the glass bottle and said in disbelief.

"That's right." Hermione shook the glass jar, and the large beetle twitched weakly twice before lying down again.

"You—" Harry immediately sensed something was wrong. "Hermione, how long have you had her?"

"How long?" Miss Granger frowned. "I forgot, maybe four or five days."

"Four or five days!" Harry's eyes widened. "Are you going to let her die of thirst and starvation?"

"How could that be?" Hermione said casually. "Weren't there a few leaves in the bottle?"

"Leaves!" Ron shuddered, then inexplicably moved away from Hermione, his brown eyes constantly scanning her and Owen.

Was it just his imagination?

Is Hermione possessed by Owen?

"You're expecting her to eat leaves?" Harry had almost the same expression.

He looked at Hermione in shock.

"So what?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to support her and bring her food every day?"

She gave a dismissive smile. "These are herbs; they won't kill you if you eat them."

"Perhaps this way she can completely get rid of her bad habit of slandering and insulting others."

"."

Harry and Ron swallowed hard, their eyes filled with a strange fear as they looked at Hermione.

In fact, they had already noticed that Hermione had undergone a huge change, some dark changes, but before, when she looked weak and frail, the feeling was not very obvious.

But now—once she regained her senses—that feeling was obvious.

Of the two, Harry felt it more strongly.

He suddenly remembered the spell Hermione used on Barty Crouch that day—it was definitely dark magic.

He still remembers how the Death Eater's armor curse failed, leaving a terrible scar on his arm.

"Let me see the bottle." Irving opened his arms.

"Oh!" Hermione handed it to her.

He took the bottle, then slowly pulled out his wand.

"Owen, what are you doing!" Harry yelled. "You're not trying to kill her, are you?!"

"I have that idea," he said calmly. "If I kill her now, no one will know where Rita Skeeter went. It'll be like she vanished into thin air."

"But—who does she think she is, that she's worthy of my killing?" Owen snorted. "Those who oppose me are either Death Eaters, goblins, or some other dark wizard. She's not worthy of a tabloid reporter."

With that, his wand glowed faintly, and he uttered a spell that made Hermione's eyelids twitch.

"Capture the spirit, grasp the mind!"

The next second, as if a cloud had been peeled away, all the secrets were revealed in his mind—Rita Skeeter's memories from the past five days.

Then, he closed his eyes lightly, remained still for about two meters, and then opened them.

Then he stared intently at Hermione.

"Stop your research in that empty classroom under the restricted book section, Miss Granger. It won't do you any good."

Below the restricted book section, before the steps leading to the underground secret chamber, there is a room filled with miscellaneous items, about the size of the library.

In Rita Skeeter's memory, Hermione used this as bait to lure her in, and she discovered some of Hermione's secrets.

"Why!" Miss Granger said curtly, showing no intention of backing down.

"Because it causes hair loss; that kind of magic can make a wizard bald," Owen joked, but his face remained expressionless. "Do you think it's that simple?"

"I know what I'm doing."

"You don't know." Owen grabbed her shoulders.

He did influence Hermione in some ways.

She even started studying black magic, just like him.

How could he not know what fate befell him in the first cycle of his dream?

Now, it's only because of ancient magic and the principle of reversion that he is not affected by the mental influence of dark magic, but he is the only one who is not affected.

Because he is the heir!

Those who learn from others will live, and those who are like others will die.

Stop while she still has time.

He gazed at her; ultimately, it was still his problem.

He has too many problems to list.

He took a deep breath, his chaotic thoughts gradually calming down. He had a thousand words on the tip of his tongue, but in the end, only one sentence remained.

I'm sorry.

Hermione paused, her lips pursed, and the muscles in her cheeks twitched as if she were trying to hold something back. "No need to apologize," she said.

"Luna is right."

"You will also be afraid, you will be terrified, you will be very uneasy, and you may even feel resentful. But you cannot."

You must always be full of courage, you must be fearless, you must be resolute and unyielding. You cannot be arrogant, you cannot be foolish, you cannot be careless. You cannot refuse to accept, you cannot be indifferent, you cannot retreat or escape, and you cannot be like an ordinary boy... just an ordinary person.

"I just—" Her eyes were slightly red, glistening with tears, "I just hoped I could help you, if one day..."

"If, if—if I could do more, if I could truly help you, and not just write a manuscript."

"You've already done so much," Owen said, wiping away the tears on her cheeks.

"Helping others isn't limited to fighting."

"Your mere existence is already a huge help."

He gently rubbed her still thin cheeks.

"But--"

"I like you, Miss Granger," he suddenly said.

"If I knew more spells, it would be like if I knew what illusions were," she continued to mutter to herself, as if she hadn't heard herself.

"I love you, Miss Granger," he said again.

Then, I gazed at her.

Suddenly Hermione stopped speaking, as if she had only just heard his voice.

Beside him, Harry and Ron couldn't stop laughing.

Then even the other Gryffindor wizards in the distance hurriedly turned their heads to look at the two of them.

"Don't secretly change yourself." Owen grabbed her slightly flustered hand.

"Perhaps you could write a report beforehand or something?"

(End of this chapter)