I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 373 The Traveler in the Book

"Oh, that's it. I came all the way from Sicily with this suitcase just for this scene." Boss Mei had a smug little expression on his face, and he was both wicked and despicable.

Observation has always been a pleasure for Merlin, especially observing the romantic entanglements between these young boys and girls, which he finds very interesting. In addition to observing the stars, he often turns his gaze to other places to find joy.

To Merlin's slight disappointment, Miss Granger's anger subsided quickly.

When she discovered that the person seemed to be unconscious, not moving at all, and not even breathing, she realized that he was unconscious.

It terrified her.

Hermione quickly drew her wand and hurried over.

"Get out of the way!" she said fiercely.

A terrifying red light shone from the tip of the wand.

The siren illuminated by the light all wore expressions of terror and hatred, their beautiful faces contorted into a ferocious grin as they bared their teeth at Hermione.

It seems to be a declaration of some kind of sovereignty.

But this standoff didn't last long. As Miss Granger pressed forward relentlessly, the sirens recalled some unpleasant memories of being tormented by wizards wielding such wands.

As magical creatures, sirens are primarily capable of controlling seawater, in addition to casting alluring spells. They can manipulate water currents to attack wizards, but the power is questionable. This ability is mostly used by sirens to create underwater bubbles—that is, to lure men into the seawater and put them into the bubbles so that they do not drown.

Generally, siren would make cavitation bubbles their home. On some seabed rock walls in the deep sea, there are cavitation bubbles everywhere, which have become a community.

Apart from that, sirens can no longer use any other magic. Like mermaids, their attacks are mostly physical.

If a wizard possesses the skill of Occlumency, or drinks a stimulant beforehand, and prepares magical items that grant immunity to charm, such as magical glasses, then dealing with the sirens will be much easier for the wizard than dealing with the mermaids at the bottom of the Black Lake, as long as the sirens' charms are ineffective.

At least sirens aren't as brave as mermaids; once they realize something is wrong, they scatter like birds and beasts, just like now.

After glaring fiercely at Hermione, the four sirens quickly fled the scene.

Soon, only one person remained in that thatched-roof cave.

Because of the cavitation, it is actually very dry here. Under the stones is a blanket woven from the fur of magical creatures, which should be able to insulate against the cold.

Hermione stepped forward and quickly took a coat from the inside pocket of her jacket and draped it over the boy's shoulders.

Then she bent down and touched his chest—hmm—it was still rising and falling.

She breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Then, feelings of grievance and fear surged up.

"Mr. Merlin, he..." Hermione said, her voice trembling with tears, turning back to look at the frivolous man. She still couldn't quite believe that he was the legendary Archmage Merlin, but now, she hoped it was true.

"Don't worry." Merlin smiled and stepped forward, patted Hermione on the shoulder, then extended his withered wooden cane and gently tapped Owen's head.

It was as if a stone had fallen into a lake, and in that instant, unknown ripples spread out.

Then his gentle, warm voice rang out, "Relax—don't resist, that is actually your own strength."

The ripples did not spread in the present world, but in consciousness, in that endless sea, in the gaps of the void, in that pale purple ocean, in that ancestral land with countless limbs and strange life forms.

The sound quickly reached Owen's ears, which were now within his consciousness.

A split second before the fusion, his body was devoured by the giant, becoming a part of it.

Then, as she began to disintegrate the soul, the sun rose.

Subsequently, he exhausted all his magic power and the flesh and blood accumulated over thousands of years in an attempt to frantically repair his body, but these attempts were like a joke under the high temperature of hundreds of millions of degrees.

It only lasted for a few seconds before the Cyclops's body was completely evaporated.

The core of the Outer God's divine essence—the giant's single eye, and Owen's body within that eye—became the only thing remaining.

The Outer Gods tried every means to deplete their magic power in an attempt to preserve this last hope.

This gave Irving hope of surviving the fusion experiment.

Or rather, this was his plan all along.

He knew that the woman craved his body, and he also knew that fusion was about to occur. In this moment of crisis, he chose to be devoured by the Outer God in the hope that he could use her power to fight against fusion.

This was not only for him, but also for Sirocco and Bakal to successfully escape.

Although fusion explosions sound terrifying, such weapons ultimately have their limits. In a solid fortification 15 meters deep within a large civil defense facility, even if people are at the center of the explosion, there is a possibility of survival. If people are not at the center of the explosion, then the depth and intensity of a normal subway are enough to allow people to escape this explosion.

Even further away, finding a sturdy underground parking garage would allow one to survive.

Further still—even ordinary reinforced concrete houses can withstand the shockwave of an explosion.

Owen's plan was to have this giant, who was hundreds of meters tall, withstand the explosion. Even if it only blocked the fireball for a few seconds, he believed that with the intelligence of that little guy Sirocco, he would be able to use that time to Apparate away with Bakal.

As for himself—he could only cheer on the Outer God.

Go girl!

Miss Liu Pi!

This girl is amazing!

Then, about four seconds later, he understood one thing: the power of an explosion is beyond the control of an individual.

In an instant—he felt his body being evaporated and torn apart.

Then it inexplicably reassembled, and then it was torn apart again.

And so on and on.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes—then his consciousness was cut off.

When I regained consciousness, I was already in this void crevice, in a pale purple sea.

Then, in that sea area, he saw the woman again.

Without saying a word, the woman launched an attack on him.

Physical attacks, the kind that land with every punch.

This stunned Irving—without thinking too much, he threw a punch back.

Good heavens—so, the final showdown between wizards and gods is just this simple and unadorned?

In the back-and-forth of punches and kicks, Irving quickly realized that the guy opposite him was really bad—he didn't know anything about fighting, and it seemed like he was just throwing punches based on instinct, without any skill whatsoever.

this--

Don't blame him, the "Little Ip Man of London," for being ruthless.

Watch my close-quarters combat, Ora Ora!

This battle was fought in a simple and unadorned manner, with no spectacle whatsoever.

And the fight lasted a very long time. Later, Owen even suspected that it was an illusion created by the Outer Gods, who were deliberately trapping him there to fight against non-existent enemies.

But whenever he thought this way, he would be jolted awake by the woman opposite him with two "bangbang" punches.

Damn it—what illusion or not, the only reason I'm not beating her to a pulp today is because she's a stinky morning glory.

Then—the voice of a fraudster reached his ears.

"Huh? My own power? What does that mean?"

Irving was confused and got punched twice by Bangbang.

Just as he was getting angry and preparing to fight again, he suddenly realized that the woman in front of him was subtly changing her appearance.

Her long hair became shorter, and the magnificent waves of her chest began to look ordinary.

Her slender arms became muscular.

He also grew several inches taller.

In short, she became more like herself.

"What the hell?"

Irving was puzzled, but to his surprise, the other party did not make another move and stood still.

It was as if the woman had indeed been his enemy and had been fighting with him all along, but as time went on, she became a kind of mirror image, and he was later fighting with himself.

"Wardfa?"

Irving scrutinized the creature before him, watching it gradually shift from a fixed gaze to nothingness, transforming into a wisp of purple smoke.

Then the smoke drifted and entered his body.

It tainted his pure and noble soul.

The next moment—Irving in reality opened his eyes.

Consciousness returned to the body.

When he opened his eyes.

He found himself lying on a huge bed with a velvet mattress. Looking down, he noticed a figurine placed on the armchair in front of his bed. Below, the floor was covered with thick Arabian carpets, the walls were adorned with Egyptian-style paintings, and there was a magnificent scarab beetle decoration on the table.

Directly opposite the door is a huge floor-to-ceiling window, through which you can see a street flowing with gold.

Yes—there are golden engravings on the ground, which look like gold under the sunlight.

In the distance, a dense grove of palm trees stretched out from the street, and a warm evening breeze blew in through the window, making it very comfortable...

"So—you looked around the whole room, deliberately trying not to see me?"

Directly opposite the bed, a man with long, silver-pink hair was staring at him from an armchair.

His eyes were deep and bright, seemingly able to see through everything in the purple glow. He wore a pure white robe embroidered with intricate patterns, and held a withered wooden cane in both hands.

Looking into his eyes, there was more resentment.

"Huh? How can this figurine talk?" Owen, whose system was still restarting, vaguely felt that the person in front of him looked familiar.

I feel like I've seen this somewhere before.

Then he began to speak:

"You—are you my servant (sevent)?"

Boss Mei was taken aback for a moment, then his smile deepened.

"That's right—Master, Grand Magician Merlin obeys the summons."

"???"

"Huh?" Owen was full of surprise. "Are you kidding me? Merlin can look like this?" At this moment, his brain had been rebooted, and countless memories rushed in.

"No—you've spied on my memories!!!"

Looking at Merlin in front of him, who looked almost exactly like a character from a certain game.

Owen immediately jumped out of bed, staring at him with wide eyes. Those were memories that didn't exist in this world, his most hidden things.

"Oh dear—but that's really what I look like!"

"fart!"

Irving was furious.

How could he not know what Merlin looks like in this world?

On the walls of Hogwarts, there are portraits of Merlin on the Chocolate Frog cards. (Because they weren't made by Merlin himself, they don't have consciousness and can't speak, but they can move.)

The Ministry of Magic and the Federation—where is Merlin's image?

His true appearance was very similar to Dumbledore's, with a white beard, silver-gray hair, and a wizard's robe from the early Middle Ages. Except Merlin didn't wear glasses and was even thinner, with his face showing the marks of time.

Throughout history, Merlin's deeds have been widely known for centuries. After all, he lived until the 16th century, and countless wizards had seen him. Therefore, the portraits of him should be authentic, and perhaps Nicolas Flamel even met him and the two even spoke.

How could Merlin possibly look like this!

"Hahaha—" Boss Mei suddenly burst into hearty laughter.

"It's interesting, isn't it? Actually, I only saw a tiny bit of it—and this person looks pretty much like me when I was young."

"They're all so handsome."

What's wrong with Merlin? Is it broken?

No matter how you look at it—the famous and legendary wizard should be closer to Dumbledore in speech and demeanor, not this frivolous appearance.

He seems like a fraudster.

Standing on the bed, Owen squinted, continuing to ponder in his mind—could this guy in front of him be a hallucination?

Just like in Inception, did the Outer God also give him several layers of dreams?

Why don't he go up and punch that guy, and see if he's dreaming?

As he spoke, Irving took a step, and then—he fell down.

"Ouch—" A chill ran down my spine.

It turned out that he had stepped on his own hair.

After he fell, Irving realized that his hair had grown so long.

It was longer than him, and when he stood up, his hair was still five or six inches long on the bed.

His long, silver hair cascaded down his back like a waterfall, and he ran his hands through it, feeling the smooth texture instantly through his fingertips.

It's cool and feels great.

That's right—this hair shouldn't be on his body. It's that woman, the woman who looks exactly like him, who has this long, straight silver hair.

Irving was startled by his own thought and quickly reached out to touch the rest of his body.

Hmm—still as majestic and powerful as ever, don't worry!

"Are you really Merlin?" Owen said, waving his right hand to cast a spell. The cutting spell was pressed against his back, cutting off all the excess hair.

He only had short hair left around his neck, which was about the same length as his previous hairstyle, but it was a bit messy and not cut well.

However, to outsiders, it has a kind of aesthetic appeal that is quite attractive.

Especially her emerald-like eyes, deep and captivating.

If the person who possesses all of this were mute, they would surely charm a large group of young men and women.

Unfortunately—"You damn liar, you still want to fool me? If you're Merlin, then I'm King Arthur!"

The boy sat on the bed, legs crossed, arms wrapped around his chest, with an expression that said, "I've seen right through you."

"Oh dear—what a nuisance. Perhaps you could write to your alchemist friend Nicolas Flamel, who will tell you my identity." Mr. Flamel rubbed his head, feigning distress, his smile never fading. His pale purple eyes were brimming with a playful air, and his nonchalant demeanor made it impossible to trust him.

"Hmm?" When the man in front of him said the name Nicolas Flamel, Owen was pretty much convinced that he might really be the legendary great magician Merlin.

Because if it were an imposter, no matter how powerful the wizard was, he wouldn't be able to fake it in front of Nicolas Flamel. As the most powerful alchemist, he had countless ways to verify identities.

"Wow, Merlin's beard! Merlin's still alive?" Owen exclaimed. "Um, Mr. Merlin, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" said Boss Mei.

"I've wanted to ask someone about this for a long time. I originally wanted to ask Professor Dumbledore, but I was afraid he'd beat me up, cough cough—you and King Arthur, was it that kind of—you know, that kind of embarrassing, unspeakable relationship?"

Then, unable to obtain the love he desired, he cursed his true love in anger, thus making the love stories of the wizards that followed tragic.

I'm not making this up. Wizards who believe in Merlin all have unhappy lives. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and the heads of the four houses all have unhappy lives. But as long as you don't believe in Merlin, well—life is mostly smooth sailing.

"So—people say that the unfortunate love stories in the magical world are all because Merlin didn't start things right."

Irving raised the corners of his mouth and asked in a very gossipy manner.

Faced with the boy's mischievous question, the Archmage Merlin actually rubbed his chin, thought seriously for a moment, and then replied, "Perhaps that's one reason. However, it might be because I don't love humans. I like the stories humans weave, but I'm not interested in the people who weave them. Arthur said: 'I only love fate itself and will not favor anyone.' For a long time, I thought he was right."

"King Arthur?" Staring at Merlin's face, Owen had a strong sense of déjà vu. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and he exclaimed, "Wait—King Arthur—isn't he a man?!"

"A girl!" said Boss Mei.

"ha?"

"Or it might be a man. Guess!"

"I bet you're a piece of shit," Owen said. "So you still haven't answered me: what's the relationship between Merlin and King Arthur?"

"Arthur and I—we're comrades-in-arms, what else could we be? Lovers?"

"Ha! You admit it, you two really are that kind of relationship." Owen said with great interest.

"I still remember those days when I rode a white horse, wearing chainmail and a red cloak, running across the plains with my knights. In the stone castle, I and the other knights declared to the king: Long live the King."

"I met him too early, and he died too young. He set a bad precedent for my life. He monopolized that seed-like possibility in my life. When I think of death, I think of him. When I think of love, I still think of him."

Oh—Eternal King of Avalon! The golden-haired boy whose heart has remained uncorrupted for a thousand years in the heart of the Great Magician.

As he spoke—as he spoke.

Owen's tone gradually softened, and his previously enthusiastic expression turned as solemn as autumn water. His words were like a sharp knife, slowly peeling away someone's scars. His words gradually shifted from teasing to offense, and finally, he even looked directly into Merlin's purple eyes and said, "So, this is the wizard's curse. Never believe in Merlin, or you will surely bring misfortune. Because his misfortune has lasted for thousands of years."

Silence fell over the room.

Outside the window, the sounds of bustling crowds could still be heard intermittently.

A dry, scorching wind from the distant desert ruffled Irving's hair.

Her silver hair, like a dancing sprite, reflected the sunlight in the air.

"They have their own destiny, and I have never interfered with it," Merlin said gently after a moment.

"And what about mine?" Owen's smile vanished suddenly, his eyes fixed on the wizard before him, as he shouted almost hysterically, "Merlin Ambrose, and what about mine?"

Merlin remained smiling in response to Irving's questioning, but a hint of pity flickered in his eyes.

It seems to be an expression of remorse for interfering with an innocent soul.

"I'm a man who can only observe. Like Arthur said, I don't like humans, I only like their stories, I get excited by the stories in books, but I have no interest in the humans who write them."

But—you are different. His purple eyes sparkled with a clear light, and his smile, like sweet candy, fell on Owen. "You and I are both travelers through books, but the difference is that you create and save this story in a way that is different from mine, and then weave a more beautiful ending."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "And these efforts are something only I can witness, Owen—the traveler who left no trace in this story. I admire your choice, and I hope you find solace at the end of this journey."

I will pray that the story ends in a clear blue sky. His voice was like a gentle stream flowing over moss-covered stones.

A relaxed and carefree feeling overflows and rises straight up.

Irving listened to his story.

I understand everything in my heart.

The woman felt the name Ambrose was familiar from the moment she heard it, and now, upon seeing Merlin, she immediately realized that Ambrose was Merlin's surname.

From the woman's words, it's not hard to imagine that his appearance, his experiences, and his ending were all within Merlin's prophecy.

Not a single thing has changed.

Should he be angry?

should!

He has that right.

He was not foolish. Both the woman who claimed to be part of the divine essence and Merlin before him were subtly conveying a truth, a truth that was not pleasant.

But for a lonely soul who died after falling into the water, this is undoubtedly a second chance. Being able to come into this world is already a blessing. What more could he ask for?

Should he crave more?

Isn't that too greedy?

Blue sky?

—The sun shines brightly outside the window.

Golden light shone upon this country.

But the sunlight was too strong, and the sky wasn't so blue; instead, it was a pale white.

Blue sky!

He did not appear at his window.

(End of this chapter)