I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 349 First Encounter with the Gods—The Messenger of God

Once you understand the monster's weaknesses, it will be much easier to deal with.

Abandon the use of spell attacks.

Change it to Transfiguration.

On the earth, the rubble was transformed into vines by the young wizards working together.

Countless devil vines, like writhing whips, spread wildly in all directions.

They flicked their wands, controlling the demon vines to drift in the intended direction.

The monsters were immediately put on the defensive.

Although the strangely made daggers they wielded could easily cut through the demonic vines, the endless stream of vines quickly subdued the remaining four cloaked monsters present.

Tie them together from head to toe like a rice dumpling.

The next second, a feeling of resentment welled up inside.

Owen suddenly plunged his wand into the ground.

The tip of the staff, glowing red, sank into the earth.

Instantly, countless orange-red light patterns spread across the land.

"Origin: Earth Flame!"

The land began to turn red and hot, with wisps of white smoke rising from it.

The lake water on the riverbank began to boil, and the earth began to crack.

Like a volcanic eruption, a piece of land was lifted up with a 'bang,' and scorching lava flowed out.

Owen's magic is an indiscriminate attack on his surroundings.

Apart from the land where he and the young wizards gathered.

Elsewhere, even the volcanic giants who were hidden by the heavy rain and knelt on the ground were all within the range of the lava's attack.

"ah!!!"

"roar!!!"

"Sizzle—"

Screams filled the air, along with the stench of burning skin.

The land beneath our feet, trusted for centuries, was transformed in an instant into a swamp of lava.

The giants of the volcano tribe struggled, trapped deep within the lava. They might have wanted to escape, but the lava collapsed and covered them too quickly. In the blink of an eye, all the land within a hundred feet around them crumbled into lava.

"Sizzle—"

The heavy rain fell on the lava, dancing merrily.

"call--"

Owen slowly got up and pulled out the crystal wand from the ground.

He transformed into the conductor of the music festival.

The magic wand is his conductor's baton.

With a random jump, lava will gush out in columnar shapes.

He stepped out step by step, casting a freezing spell without a staff each time his feet touched the lava.

Lava turns into hard obsidian when it cools.

The process was very quick, leaving only a black obsidian footprint on the lava.

The churning lava glowed a dark red.

The light refracted back and forth in the raindrops, spreading out like mist.

The sunlight shone on Irving, as if he were draped in a red cape.

At that moment, he seemed like a god who controlled everything.

He roamed the abyss, treading on fire.

It looked down upon those poor, bound creatures with aloofness and cruelty.

"Die!"

God bestows mercy.

The gushing lava instantly engulfed their bodies.

Even though the milky white light was still flickering, trying to resist.

The monster was also struggling, waving its pathetic dagger, foolishly thinking it could cut through the lava.

"Burning like straw!"

The earth trembled.

The flames protecting him from fire-style attacks, mixed with lava, surged and roared towards the sky.

The volcano erupted.

The high temperature and bright light even evaporated the heavy rain and dark clouds, and in an instant, a corner of the sky was torn apart.

Its daybreak.

Sunlight streamed through the cracks, casting a golden glow upon the earth.

"Phew." Owen exhaled a breath of stale air.

it is finally over!

He could no longer sense that strange magical fluctuation around him.

"Is it over?" Harry, wand in hand, looked around, his face flushed and panting.

The same goes for Ron.

They all did their best; high-intensity concentration while casting spells is no easy feat.

Besides being a challenge to one's own magic power, it is even more of a test of one's willpower.

"it's over."

Irving plopped down on the ground.

The surrounding lava was still churning. After losing its magical supply, the lava would soon be cooled by the heavy rain, but the heat that filled the surrounding area did not dissipate all at once.

This allowed the dark clouds to regain the upper hand, and the riverbank, where raindrops fell again, felt less chilly.

"Phew—" I heard Owen say that.

The other young wizards breathed a sigh of relief, and then followed his example, slumping to the ground.

The group huddled together.

Miss Granger was beside him, and he took her pale hand in his, signaling her to calm down.

She rested her head on his shoulder, savoring the tenderness of the moment.

"Knock there!"

With the battle over, everyone finally had time to turn their attention to the monster.

Since the other four bodies had already been swallowed by lava and become nutrients for the flowers and plants next year, their attention was only on the one that Owen had killed.

"Merlin's beard!" Ron screamed.

From where he was sitting, he could see the monster's head rolling on the ground. The bloody head startled him, especially the pair of lifeless, deep blue eyes staring right at him—Ron was going to have nightmares tonight.

"What's wrong?" Owen and Hermione turned around at the same time.

I thought he had been attacked.

"What's that?" Owen immediately spotted the head on the ground.

He struggled to his feet and walked over. He knelt beside her head and lifted her up.

Honestly, this was the most beautiful woman's head Irving had ever seen—dead.

She has long, wavy blue hair, deep blue eyes, and fair, radiant skin—in short, incredibly youthful and radiant.

Her features are gentle, radiating the inclusiveness of the sea. But with that face, she's almost on par with Furong.

If it's alive.

She's estimated to be more beautiful than Furong.

"This can't be—" Owen, carrying her head, walked toward her corpse.

Beside the Gryffindor sword stuck in the ground, there was a man wearing a cloak.

"Damn—that's evil!"

The fight was so intense that he didn't even notice.

Other young wizards also gathered around.

They stared in shock at Owen's dead head, scrutinizing it closely beside the body.

This scene—it was so eerie it sent chills down my spine.

"Owen." Harry swallowed hard, then tilted his head back slightly, his lips twitching, and said, "I think you should... show some respect."

"Respect?" Owen lifted his head, looked at her, then at Harry. "Seriously? You're afraid of this? You're not afraid of the living, but afraid of the dead?"

"No—" Harry felt like he was choking.

Is that a matter of living or dying?

But just as he was about to retort, he saw that Owen had already started tearing at the robe of the female corpse on the ground.

Hmm—a long robe?

It was only then that the three little ones realized that it wasn't a robe at all.

Irving only just found out.

What kind of evil was that? It was as if the skin of several people had been peeled off and then used to sew a cloak made of these skins mixed with some kind of oil.

The woman's hood, though shattered, was still clearly made of two faces sewn together. The rope around her waist was made of several arms, the skin of which was connected. Harry could even see the fingers—those fingers, some big, some small, some long, some short.

"Evil—God, I..."

Harry was speechless.

His eyes widened further and further as he followed the movements of Irving's hands.

The woman's cloak had a hideous face on it, with its mouth agape, eyes wide open, and a terrifying expression.

It's hard to imagine what kind of cruel torture that person must have suffered while alive to force him to show that expression.

There are seven such faces on the entire skin.

"Evil magic!" Hermione stared at the 'cloak', her face turning pale.

She could roughly guess why the spell wasn't working on them anymore.

"Seven souls are imprisoned inside the human skin cloak, each face representing a soul, and these souls are the key to resisting the curse," Owen said, pulling off the entire 'human skin cloak'.

As he expected, there were seven faces. Although they were blurry, you could still tell which parts of the face had once been there.

The milky white light shone seven times, corresponding to the demise of seven souls; the eighth time was when their true forms appeared.

"My God, what evil this is! To imprison a person—to imprison a person's soul within one's own skin? And then to make a cloak?"

Harry sighed.

"That's not all, look here."

He waved his hand, and the other young wizards reluctantly approached. Then they saw that under the cloak, beneath the person's light, gauze-like clothes, there were many scales on his skin.

Especially the waist area; Irving guessed there might be more on the lower body, but due to unavoidable circumstances, he wouldn't pull down the pants.

These scales are like gemstones, emitting a deep blue luster.

It not only covers the key parts of the body, but also adds a touch of allure to the body.

"This is—a siren!" Owen said.

"Sirens?" The three children snapped out of their daze. They seemed to recognize the name; it must have been from Hagrid's Magical Creatures class.

"They are the closest thing to the mermaids and sea spirits in mythology. You can ask Hagrid for details later. Just know that these creatures live in the seabed of the strait off Sicily. Recently, their entire siren tribe suddenly disappeared. As for where they went—"

With that, he waved the 'human skin cloak' in his hand.

"They were attacked."

"It was a god who attacked them," Owen corrected.

Then he threw his head and cloak on the ground.

He had a bad feeling.

Normally, Outer Gods shouldn't have such powerful abilities to interfere with the real world.

If he had such power, he would have defeated the successor long ago, why wait until now?

"god?"

Suddenly, a feeling of suffocation rose from the bottom of the young wizard's heart.

Without a doubt, this is an evil god, a powerful evil god.

Even though he was once a wizard, the long passage of time had long since devoured what little humanity he had left.

He, who calls himself a god, probably doesn't think his methods are that evil. Perhaps in his eyes, there is no essential difference between killing a person, taking out their soul and sewing it into their skin, and then making a cloak out of the skin, and scooping water from a lake with a cup.

"Phew—okay, stop thinking about these things." Owen realized he seemed to have started something bad.

He gasped for breath, his body exhausted from the depletion of his magic.

"Harry, if you're still in the mood, you can go help Sirius. They're short-handed, and we need to make sure the giants don't suffer too many casualties."

"Remember, let the giants fight. You just need to stay in the back and cast spells to defend against the legion's fire and spear arrows."

"I understand." Harry understood immediately, knowing that thinking about Outer Gods and such was pointless now, and it was better to conserve his strength to deal with the war at hand.

He turned and headed toward the forest.

After a moment's thought, Ron followed Harry.

Hermione approached after Harry and Ron had disappeared from sight.

"Has things gotten this bad?" She understood the Outer Gods better than anyone else; in fact, besides Owen, she was the one who understood them best.

But today—the evil of the gods still exceeded her imagination.

This filled Hermione with worry.

Because whether it's Shani Maeve Weasley, or Headmistress Bridget Weasley, or the Weasley heir between the two.

Their fates were all tragic. Shani Weasley was killed by a goblin in her early twenties, Headmaster Bridget mysteriously disappeared in her sixties, and the original portrait in the castle was nowhere to be found.

As for the remaining mysterious Weasley—God, she didn't even leave her name, which shows that she was even more tragic than the other two.

“I never thought that far ahead,” she rested her head on his shoulder—“I thought, I—we still had a little room for naivety. Although I knew some things were happening, but—I’m not a strategist, I don’t know how to plan for the long term, I just hoped…”

"I just want you to live." She smiled sadly and lowered her gaze.

Owen raised his hand to cup her chin, gave her a light kiss, and then pressed his forehead against hers. Hermione gently closed her eyes.

Their souls seemed to be touching each other.

"Don't worry about me, Miss Granger." Owen pulled away from her forehead.

"Sometimes I'm confused about why I'm at odds with the gods. Are we really enemies?"

But whenever I see you, and Dumbledore, and my grandfather, I know that I am an enemy of the gods.

Owen paused, took a short breath, and said, "What you should be concerned about is the next Muggle witch who shines like a star, coming to a world that welcomes her. In such a world, she won't have to constantly fight for her right to live, and she won't be seen as someone who stole something just because she wants to learn magic."

What you should care about is that every intelligent species can find its own value in this land.

Their achievements will not be taken away by rights derived from bloodlines.

If there's only one thing I'm absolutely certain of, it's that wizards are not noble. If the world were united, the gods who once defeated the Outer Gods would have been utterly killed thousands of years ago. If fairies and wizards maintained a close relationship for a long time, they wouldn't be manipulated or bewitched by the Outer Gods.

The magical world has never been equal. You should take advantage of this war—a reshuffling of the deck and an opportunity—to extend an olive branch to all those with ambition and unite with them.

If not now, when?

Hermione looked up, a smirk playing on her lips. "Is this what you think?"

"you guess!"

"I'm not sure—" she said, standing quietly in place.

"Of course, none of the above. I don't care about others, I only care about you. Don't get involved in my affairs, Miss Granger, I'm afraid you'll be bewitched."

--------

far away.

The battle against the life forms of the furnace has reached a fever pitch.

With Sirius and his friends' help, the chances of the giants being hit by those corrupting flames were greatly reduced.

But their energy was rapidly waning due to their constant running around.

Of them, only Madam Maxim maintained an incredibly fast spellcasting speed, even having the energy to unleash powerful dark magic like Vulcan's Path and Fiendfyre to kill the furnace's inhabitants.

As expected of the headmaster of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, those who can become headmasters, apart from Karkaroff who got in through connections, are all formidable individuals.

She is a one-woman battle.

It's fair to say that if it weren't for Mrs. Maxim, the giants would have been defeated long ago.

After a long while—Irving, arriving late, joined the fray.

In the bustling forest, the dazzling light of the Origin Magic once again resounded.

Destructive meteor.

Creation Star Rain.

Calamity and storm.

This kind of magic, specifically designed to inflict massive casualties on the enemy, is incredibly effective in such battles. In fact, wizards do have their own war magic, and Durmstrang is unparalleled in Europe in this regard. Grindelwald's fire magic is actually a kind of war magic, because flames can distinguish between those who are loyal to him and those who are enemies.

Therefore, wizards did not completely abandon this kind of magic with large-scale destructive power; rather, they developed this type of magic in a new way.

On the other side, Miss Granger also joined in.

She could also cast the three major stargazing origin spells with ease.

Although it took longer to charge up and the range wasn't as exaggerated as Owen's, her Starfall was only about two hundred feet wide (six or seven meters), but it still attracted the attention of the adult wizards present.

Especially Mrs. Maxim.

When she saw Hermione constantly pulling out spells she had never heard of before...

After even some dangerous dark magic, she knew that Hogwarts had truly surpassed her school in every way.

Over there are two little boys, Harry Ron.

Although they weren't as skilled as Hermione and couldn't cast any Origin Magic, they could throw out ordinary Dark Magic Defense Charms like they were free.

This semester, Moody taught them far too many spells that only Aurors should learn. If it were Harry from the original story, he would probably be completely overwhelmed and unable to keep up with Moody's teaching pace for a whole year.

But the reality is that the young wizards, who had been thoroughly outmatched by Owen for four years, were incredibly enthusiastic about learning new magic.

They also have a foundation; they all know the standard black magic defense spells, petrification spells, disarming spells, and so on.

Thankfully, there were no Dementors this year, otherwise Moody and his friends would have witnessed the spectacular sight of hundreds of Patronus advancing side by side.

Moody naturally increased the difficulty of teaching spells to this young wizard step by step. In a year, apart from combat experience, his spells skills were indeed approaching the level that only an Auror should have mastered.

"The younger generation is truly formidable!" Mrs. Maxim murmured.

(End of this chapter)