I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 378 The Endless Crisis!

"What's wrong? Is someone watching me?" Owen dodged the approaching wizard and asked, turning to the side.

“It wasn’t you,” Bill said. “Didn’t you read the recent paper?”

"Oh—something happened, I haven't been paying much attention to the news lately."

"Look at this." With that, Bill pulled a brand-new newspaper from his pocket, a copy of the Daily Prophet. The front page headline featured a photo of Miss Granger with a high-ranking Egyptian official. She was calmly holding up her medal, and countless flashes of light were shining on her face. The enthusiasm around her made her seem somewhat evasive.

"Holy crap—" Irving exclaimed.

He glanced at it and immediately understood what had happened.

The newspapers said that a prominent Hogwarts student, the heir to Gryffindor, a war hero, and the successor to Albus Dumbledore, had recently launched a major operation in Egypt, destroying numerous dark wizard strongholds and making outstanding contributions to the cause of peace in Egypt, blah blah blah.

That's not the point. The point is, even British newspapers are reporting on it so extensively, I can't even imagine how the local newspapers will promote it.

"Phew! I've gotten myself into trouble again, Granger."

Dark wizards are a bunch of lunatics. If you expect those guys, whose minds have been turned upside down by dark magic, to temporarily hide away, you're just being naive.

A few Death Eaters dared to ambush Dumbledore; you can't call them stupid, because they simply had no brains left.

"You know now!" Bill said, "A dark wizard has infiltrated Cairo. You need to be careful no matter what."

"Understood." Owen nodded. "By the way, where are you going?"

"Me?" Bill suddenly looked embarrassed, and after a moment he continued, "When I worked at Gringotts, I was in charge of breaking the curse on the pyramids."

The Egyptian witch doctor believed that the mutated flesh and blood might be a curse, and hoped that I could go and help them.

"After all, I've lived here for so many years, and there are still some things I can't refuse to admit."

"By the way, do you have some time? Could you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Aren't you quite skilled in alchemy and ancient runes? Come and take a look; maybe we can find some clues."

"Hmm," Owen certainly knew what that mutated flesh and blood was. In short, the power of the Outer Gods was also a kind of ancient magic, using ancient magic to mutate and modify organisms, or to stimulate the power of the body itself, which is part of the life furnace.

He does indeed have a way to stop this anomaly, just as he was able to help Koyatir dispel the whispers of the Outer Gods.

But this would have a great impact on him, and it would be difficult to achieve without the blood of an heir.

He couldn't bear to see a mutant and then cut himself in the back.

Moreover, there was nothing he could do after it mutated into an ominous sign.

But since he's already here, he might as well go and take a look; he hasn't had a chance to seriously study these things yet.

After all, he hasn't had time lately.

It's been going on and on. It's time to calm things down.

"Okay—I don't have anything else to do anyway." Owen nodded.

On the other side, at the opposite end of the street, is a narrow and dark alley.

The buildings here are older than those around them, seemingly a forgotten corner. When the scorching sun is blocked by the houses and tarpaulins, the place appears even darker, as if isolated from the world.

Feeling betrayed and heartbroken, Nefertie hid in a messy alley, covering her mouth and weeping.

Tears wet her eyelashes, falling like raindrops to the ground, splashing up yellow dust.

There were quite a few wizards coming and going in this alley. Most of them wore robes of various colors that completely concealed their figures.

Judging from their bare, dark arms, these people were likely shamans from Africa.

Although some wizards noticed the little witch's sad appearance in the alley, none of them went to her.

This place is somewhat similar to Knockturn Lane in London, a melting pot of wizards where no one wants to cause trouble, especially at this time.

"We've found a big fish!"

Suddenly, the surrounding wizards seemed to have seen some kind of plague god and quickly dodged away.

Soon, the messy alley was surrounded by strange wizards dressed in light-colored robes embroidered with all sorts of magical creatures.

They are considered strange because these people wear necklaces or bracelets made from the bones of some kind of animal around their necks and arms.

Her exposed abdomen and arms were covered with intricate tattoos.

You can tell at a glance that he's not a good person.

"I'm dizzy and have collapsed!"

The gray spell swept through the crowd and headed straight for Nefertir.

As she wept, Nefertir sensed the approaching magic.

She noticed the unusual situation around her when the crowd suddenly surged.

The moment the spell struck her, Neferpitou quickly drew her wand, blocking the attack.

"He's got some skills."

More and more dark wizards gathered around.

"Hi—I recognize her—Nefertari, the Minister of Magic's granddaughter."

"And he's also the henchman of that crazy woman who ruined several of our establishments a while back," another wizard chimed in.

"Looks like this is quite a big fish!"

The next second, all the dark wizards present revealed evil smiles.

Then he approached her step by step.

Then countless spells surged toward her, as if to drown Nefertir.

Nefertir is undoubtedly a top-notch magical genius; at her age, she should be a sixth or seventh-grade wizard at a magic school.

Normally, it's unlikely that a young wizard of this age would possess very strong combat skills. It's surprising that he could withstand so many spells for a while.

Her excellence is likely due not only to her natural talent but also to her family education.

However, defense always goes awry, especially when she faces a large number of dark wizards. They intended to capture her alive and did not kill her, otherwise she would have been unable to defend herself under the Killing Curse.

Soon, a curse with a tricky angle clung to the wall and struck her.

Without even uttering a cry, Nefertir collapsed to the ground and fell into a coma.

"Hey—we'll do this. This little witch is the Minister's granddaughter; if the Ministry of Magic needs to allocate more staff..."

Among the dark wizards, some still raised doubts.

Is it really okay to kidnap the children of such an important person?

"Hmph—" The dark wizard who had struck Nefertir walked over, grabbed the girl's hair, and said, "The Minister of Magic is busy holding a magic convention in Sweden. Besides, after that war, how many Aurors can this country spare?"

"This is a golden opportunity for us."

"That's right—" In an instant, the group of dark wizards reached a consensus.

This is indeed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

They could extort a large sum of money and then flee the country to a faraway place, or—something that isn't money.

At that moment, everyone's eyes were filled with the light of revenge.

They hadn't forgotten, hadn't forgotten the girl riding the silver dragon, high above, coldly watching them as easily as crushing ants.

Revenge—they must take revenge.

This is the main reason why so many of them are still in Cairo.

-

Meanwhile, unaware of the conspiracy unfolding beneath the surface, Owen and Bill walked one after the other through the streets of Cairo. After finding a secluded corner, Bill Apparated him.

After the surrounding scenery spun around me, I felt dizzy.

Irving looked around and found himself in front of an ancient building.

The building in front of us is constructed from megaliths, a common feature in Egypt. Mysterious symbols and relief patterns gleam on the walls as the sunlight shines through.

The building has three floors, with wide staircases leading to each floor and into every corner.

Upon entering what appears to be a hospital building, a fragrant aroma permeates the air—the scent of essential oils blended from various spices and herbs.

The walls of the hall were covered with portraits of various wizards, just like those at St. Mungo's Hospital for the Magical Injuries and Disabilities; these were wizards who had made outstanding contributions to the medical field.

Bill didn't linger and led him to the second floor.

On the second floor, many witch doctors were pacing back and forth. Their hurried footsteps revealed the underlying panic beneath the surface of calm.

Egypt is one of the countries with the most ancient ruins.

Every year, countless wizards are sent here for various reasons, suffering from curses or black magic.

This also led to Egyptian sorcerers having world-leading methods for healing from curses and black magic.

Every year, therapists come here for training.

Just now—Owen saw an old wizard leading a group of young people dressed in all sorts of robes walking down the corridor.

Each of them wore a peculiar badge on their chest, which was probably the symbol of the hospital.

"pity--"

"What's wrong?" Bill looked down at him.

"Oh! It's nothing." Owen shook his head. Unfortunately, ordinary wizards had almost never come into contact with ancient magic, let alone studied it.

It's understandable that Egyptian witch doctors were helpless in this situation.

If they bring Victor over, he might have some ideas. Besides that, Irving couldn't think of any other solutions.

Many more wizards walked down the corridor.

They speak different languages, from all over the world.

There were even some that Irving couldn't identify as belonging to.

He guessed it was the language of a tribe in a landlocked African country.

Generally speaking, ancient languages ​​that have been passed down for many years may contain magic.

Similar to runes.

So when the strangely dressed wizard with dark skin, wearing a cloak made of scraps of cloth of various colors and holding some kind of bell, walked past him, Owen couldn't help but take a few more glances.

"High Priestess of Voodoo—Rawiyu. A legendary witch with incredible magic to control souls, she was highly respected in Africa."

"What kind of magic is it to control souls? Does such magic even exist?" Owen raised an eyebrow. What exactly is a soul? To this day, European wizards haven't figured it out. All they can confirm is that all living things possess souls, and the Three Unforgivables are attacks on the soul. Beyond that, there's no research. Even though ghosts exist everywhere, wizards can only vaguely explain that these creatures are the mark of wizards. Whether they truly belong to a wizard is still debated in academic circles.

Now—how come a magic that can control souls has suddenly appeared?

Is African magic really that powerful?

"It's complicated to explain," Bill frowned. "And I don't know much about it either."

The so-called Voodoo religion, also known as "vodka," originated in West Africa. It is a primitive religion that combines ancestor worship, animism, and spiritualism, and is somewhat similar to shamanism.

Voodoo means "god" or "spirit". In the local area, some shamans receive divine revelation in their dreams. The shaman who receives the revelation then goes through a series of complex sacrificial rituals to establish a connection with the divine. Once this connection is successfully established, the shaman will have the ability to control the souls of the dead.

In addition to these abilities, they also possess various other powers such as healing diseases, lifting curses, and twisting souls. In short, it's a very powerful but rather primitive form of magic. The Waggadu Magic School in Uganda explicitly forbids its students from accessing or learning this magic, but Africa is vast, and there are always some wizards who escape the control of the Ministry of Magic and magic schools.

“…” Owen clicked his tongue. “Just hearing you say it sounds incredibly evil. And—” he shuddered. “I’ve recently developed an allergy to the word ‘God.’ I feel uncomfortable as soon as I hear it.”

"Damn it, is there going to be more trouble?"

"Trouble? What trouble?" Bill looked at him, puzzled.

"You wouldn't understand even if I explained. Anyway, we'll go in and take a look later. You'd better pray that the high priest is helpless against the anomaly." Owen's expression gradually became serious. "If that's the case, this so-called Voodoo Cult is nothing more than a local sect, insignificant."

If she really does have some way... then... we're doomed!

"?" Bill looked puzzled. "Why do you say that? Isn't it a good thing that she has a way?"

"A good thing? I'm afraid it could be something life-threatening!"

"Hmm—this could really be a matter of life and death!" A mocking, lazy voice suddenly sounded behind Owen.

The boy was stunned for a moment, then immediately turned around and saw a man with a completely different style from the others standing outside a room, looking inside.

"Why did you follow me here!"

"Hehe—my good daughter abandons her old father and leaves with another strange man—how could I not come to help with something like this?"

"..." Owen gritted his teeth, his eyes gleaming green. "Fine—don't say anything more, put the money aside for now, just stand there and let me chop something to vent my anger!"

The magic of transformation compelled Owen to grab a flowerpot from the hallway, instantly conjuring a longsword. He then leaped high into the air, determined to fight the dog's head before him. "Damn old man, take this—Excalibur!"

Irving was in high spirits. Unfortunately, this had no effect on Mr. Mei, who blinked and smiled, saying, "Oh dear—looks like I need to discipline him properly."

Having said that, he propped up his cane.

The instant the sword made contact with Irving's hand.

A strange magic suddenly appeared, and then a grumpy boy found that the world seemed to have become bigger to him—no—it had become smaller.

"What's going on? Huh?" Even the voice became more childish.

"As punishment, I'll make you grow up all over again!" Merlin half-squatted down and gently rubbed Owen's face and hair. "That's much cuter."

"You—" Irving was stunned. "How did you do that? This is impossible!"

He had been wondering about it just now.

Illusion is a very common form of magic.

Besides the illusion spell commonly used by wizards, illusions can also be created by the songs of magical creatures such as boggarts, elven spirits, and sirens.

But—illusion, illusion. No matter how exquisite the illusion, no matter how realistic the appearance it creates, it is still fake, not real.

Just like his embarrassing past when he dressed as a girl in second grade, his appearance was all an illusion, like wearing the clothes of a beautiful girl. Anyone who touches him will discover the truth.

But Merlin's magic actually altered his body, because his line of sight really became shorter, which was impossible.

Imagine you're dueling Voldemort, and a spell turns him back into the little Tom from the orphanage. Even without reducing his magical abilities, the sheer abrupt change...

"Ara ara—do you want to learn?" Merlin said casually, "If you say, 'Big brother Merlin, please teach me,' I'll teach you."

"."

"Pfft!" Owen swiftly grabbed Merlin and hugged him, then clung to him like an octopus. "Godfather—is that you, Godfather—teach me—Godfather!"

"."

Seeing Owen, a man who could bend and yield, Mr. Mei was taken aback for a moment, then the corners of his mouth turned up, and he laughed seriously, "O(∩_∩)O haha~ It seems you have grasped the true essence of magic."

"."

Such an eye-watering scene left Bill, who was standing right next to Owen, speechless—"Your relationship is so complicated, and—have some shame, okay? There are so many people around—whether it's a witch doctor or patients coming and going, they all turned to look."

They might not understand English, but their gazes still made you feel like you were sitting on pins and needles.

However—Owen's current appearance—the delicate appearance of a four or five-year-old child, whose gender is indistinguishable from his appearance, and his voice is also childish—he has never seen this kind of magic that makes people younger before. Could it be some kind of shapeshifting magic?

"Um—Owen, and who is this?" Bill coughed lightly, interrupting the scene of fatherly love and filial piety in front of him.

"Him?" Little Owen jumped off Boss Mei's lap; even his clothes had shrunk.

"This is the legendary great wizard, King Arthur's teacher, a great pioneer of the wizarding world, dedicated to the peaceful coexistence of Muggles and wizards, and a suspicious conman—Merlin the Great Wizard!"

"Merlin?" Bill's eyelids twitched slightly, giving him a look that said, "Are you kidding me?" It would be better to tell him that Owen was actually a girl than to make him believe that the person in front of him was Merlin.

He might be able to believe the latter to some extent.

However, he didn't press the issue further. Since the other party was unwilling to talk, he couldn't continue asking. But the wizards that Owen could associate with must be among the top tier, so perhaps this wizard had some unique methods.

"The beginning was normal, but the last one—what does it mean to be a suspicious fraudster? Have I ever lied to you?" Boss Mei rubbed Owen's head until his hair stood on end.

"Yes! Not only did they cheat me, they stole my money. I had over ten thousand Galleons!"

"Tens of thousands?" Grand Master Merlin pinched his cheek and said, "I can't believe such a lie came out of such a cute face."

Owen, whose cheeks were red from Merlin's pinch, still stubbornly insisted, saying coldly, "It's not a few hundred thousand, I misremembered. It should be seventy, eighty, or ninety thousand, maybe a little over a million, I don't remember exactly. But it's definitely no less than two million!"

"Little fellow, how can you be so greedy at such a young age!" Merlin took out his withered wooden wand and waved it in front of Owen. "Girls are definitely more obedient. How about—"

As soon as these words were spoken, the people who were trying to extort money immediately jumped up and ran far away.

Then she turned around and followed Bill toward the isolation ward.

Hey—it's just a little bit of Galleons, right?

They act like they've never seen the world before, saying "No, no, I don't want it anymore."

A happy life in the future is more important.

move on.

The number of people around is decreasing.

After pushing open a partition door, the most terrifying scene in the wizarding world appeared before them.

The room had clearly been enchanted with an infinite stretching spell; as soon as you entered, you could hear wailing sounds.

The room was divided into two parts—one side was a cage made of some kind of metal—where the ominous was imprisoned, bound by some kind of magical cloth; the other side was a regular room where about thirty or forty wizards were lying in sickbeds.

Their skin was shrouded in a black mist, and grotesque granulation tissue was growing from their wounds, which was still spreading and would likely cover their entire bodies soon.

This process is obviously very painful.

It's like being slowly eaten by something.

Ordinary people simply cannot endure such suffering.

"Mr. Weasley." The visitor was a witch, about thirty or forty years old, with a tired and listless expression. But her eyes shone with energy, a sight Owen was very familiar with—that's what happens when you drink too much energy potion.

My body was very tired, but my mind was very clear.

She ignored Merlin and Owen beside her and walked straight up to Bill.

"They all say you're the best curse breaker."

The female doctor put a tall hat on him and quickly led him into a cubicle.

There were four or five witch doctors in the cubicle, and they looked at Bill with different expressions—disdain, expectation, or indifference.

In short, all aspects of life are contained within this.

However, Irving did not see the high priest among these people.

She should be in another ward.

Lying on the hospital bed was a male wizard in his early twenties. His infection was very minor; the injury was to his arm, and granulation tissue was only present near the wound.

"These days—we have consulted almost every medical book we could find—but—with little success. We only found a few words in a magical anti-epidemic book from about five hundred years ago, but the book only tells us how to prevent the spread of the curse, but not how to treat it."

"Let me take a look first!" Bill drew his wand and walked over.

Then they began to cast spells on the wounds of the wizard lying on the hospital bed.

(End of this chapter)