I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 34 Transition - Before Christmas (Please continue reading)

"Bang!!!"

The sound of the twelve-foot-tall behemoth falling to the ground was deafening.

But whether it's Harry, Hermione, or Hannah.

No one was attracted by the sound.

Their gaze never lingered on the giant monster for even a second.

Everyone was watching Irving.

It was as if they were meeting for the first time.

They looked at the man's languid expression, his arms crossed, his nonchalant posture, and the madness that flashed in the corner of his eye.

It turns out what he said was true.

Hermione shivered.

She remembered the jokes Owen had made with her in his playful banter.

Those words that angered her, those words she originally thought were just someone's bad taste.

It's all true!!!

The Killing Curse—this was the first time she had ever seen the Killing Curse!

He really does use the Killing Curse.

The immense terror of that sudden loss of life made her involuntarily grab Harry's hand and take a step back.

And Harry.

He reacted even more strongly than Hermione.

Just as death swept over his head, he seemed to vaguely hear a woman's scream.

The sound was so shrill, so unsettling.

Kyrie Irving was the only one present, and he didn't react at all from beginning to end.

It was as if I had done something extremely insignificant.

------

Then comes the scene commonly seen in movies.

As soon as Irving finished, a group of professors rushed over upon hearing the news.

The coincidence made him seriously suspect that Dumbledore had been watching from not far away.

Among the crowd, Irving also spotted Professor Quirrell.

He remained submissive, standing beside Snape, his eyes filled with terror as he stared at the giant on the ground.

She looked like a frightened young girl.

Hey, hey, hey! Still pretending, Professor Quirrell.

Irving curled his lip. "Your crazy self-destruction is obvious even to a blind person."

Dumbledore remained unmoved. Didn't you ever consider that there might be something wrong with your approach?

It's important to know that each level containing the Philosopher's Stone is overseen by a specific professor, and Quirrell happens to be in charge of the Troll level (which wasn't shown in the movie, but appears in the books).

But now a giant has appeared here.

This isn't just a hint; it's blatantly riding on Dumbledore's head and shouting, "I am a Death Eater! I am a Death Eater!"

Arrest me! Arrest me!

Owen could understand his thoughts. He was being parasitized by Voldemort, and his every move was being monitored. Even if he regretted it now and wanted to report it, he was still worried.

It's impossible for him to run up to the old headmaster and say, "Your Tom is right on my head."

Unfortunately, the two, who were not on the same wavelength at all, were destined to miss this hard-won chance.

"They need to rest." She wore a magnificent purple robe, with silver-white hair that reached her waist and could be tucked into her belt.

Dumbledore's booming voice immediately captivated everyone.

Behind those crescent-shaped glasses, eyes gleaming with humanity scanned the entire washroom, finally settling on Owen. "The other junior wizards will be taken back by their respective house heads. Professor Quirrell, the cleanup of this troll is your responsibility."

"No—no problem, sir," Quirrell said in his usual hesitant tone.

He lowered his head the moment he finished speaking.

A trace of deep sorrow flashed in his eyes.

If Dumbledore were to invite him to the headmaster's office for tea at that moment, he would jump for joy.

But why?

Even though he had already exposed himself to this extent, Dumbledore was still observing?

The person about to drink tea was still staring intently at Quirrell's expression, until a loud voice rang in his ear.

"Irving, come with me."

The old principal patted him on the shoulder, then turned and left.

Owen, under the watchful eyes of several professors, followed along, glancing back every few steps. (Professor Quirrell! No—my Professor Quirrell. Ahhh, the fun's over.)

------

No one knows what Owen and Dumbledore talked about that night.

All Justin knew was that he came home late, but slept soundly.

The next day, nothing seemed to have changed; Irving was still the same, except that he would disappear for a period of time every night.

The end of the Halloween holiday.

The headmaster specially gave extra points to all the young wizards who participated in the troll annihilation battle at the dinner the night before classes started.

Hermione, Harry, Hannah, Justin, and even Ron, who was written out of the story from the very beginning.

Everyone received an extra ten points.

Kyrie Irving was the only one missing.

In response, a certain underworld leader expressed strong protest.

But it didn't work.

Dumbledore told him: "While your actions deserve credit, the spell you used is not something to be encouraged."

Therefore, merits and demerits cancel each other out, so no points are added or deducted.

Then I dragged him into more than two weeks of ideological education classes, every afternoon!

Until mid-December.

Christmas Eve.

Poor Owen even missed the Saviour's first Quidditch match because he was punished by having to copy books in the headmaster's office.

All day long!

Everyone's copying books!

Owen strongly suspected that Dumbledore simply didn't want to pay for the printing of certain magical books in the library, so he made Owen do the free labor of handwriting them here!

------

One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts School awoke to find itself surrounded by several feet of snow and the lake frozen solid.

The Weasley twins were punished again, along with Owen.

They cast a spell on several snowballs, making them chase Quirrell around and hit him behind his headscarf.

The Weasleys, of course, had no idea that the pinnacle of their lives was just beginning.

And Irving, him?

He's a pure fun-loving person; wherever there's fun, there he is.

Teasing Voldemort is something I certainly can't miss.

These past few days, everyone has been eagerly anticipating the holiday.

Although the common room and auditorium in Hufflepuff were burning brightly, the drafty corridors were bitterly cold, and the classroom windows rattled in the biting wind.

Early in the morning, Hagrid rushed to Hufflepuff School.

Dean Pomona Sprout's office.

The wizard, who possessed giant blood, shouted in a gruff voice, "Several more owls are missing from the school! Several more are missing!"

"It must be that evil little Death Eater!" Wait...

In short, Hagrid pestered Professor Sprout for a long time, but in the end, it ended in frustration because he couldn't produce any evidence.

As he left, Hagrid swore, "I will definitely find something on that kid, I definitely will!"

Watching Hagrid's figure gradually disappear, Dean Sprout finally made up his mind.

We are preparing to seriously rectify a certain rotten apple in the college.

And so, Owen, who had to go to the principal's office every afternoon to teach moral education, was now enjoying the evening solitary confinement package in Dean Sprout's office.

The days passed by.

In the days leading up to Christmas, Irving's days suddenly became regular.

Every morning after getting up and washing up, I first go to Professor Sprout's office, then report to the greenhouse, have breakfast with the dean, and then go to the castle for class.

At noon, I went to the greenhouse to report and had lunch with the professor, where I also learned some knowledge about herbs. In the afternoon, I continued with classes. Before dinner, I had tea in the principal's office, and afterwards, I went to the greenhouse to digest my food.

Extremely regular.

Every day, it gave Irving a strong sense of wanting to retire.

I unexpectedly managed to slack off for a little while this afternoon, but not much. Thanks to good luck for bringing me good fortune, thanks (ω).

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.

I felt there wasn't much to write about Quidditch, so I skipped it; it wasn't in my outline anyway. I won't pad the word count.

By the way, Christmas is coming soon. What do you think Grandpa will give his grandson as a gift?

(End of this chapter)