I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 385 A Tiger Enters a Sheep's Den

"Because we still need to make money off them. That's about all the usefulness these people have. Haha."

A few people in the crowd laughed.

Consequently, the wizard standing in front of Owen also revealed a mocking expression.

Seeing this, Miss Granger did not hesitate and immediately reached out to hold the boy's hand, fearing that he might suddenly burst out and do something drastic.

Although they couldn't understand Arabic, they could tell from the sarcastic tone and laughter that the people seemed to be mocking them.

However, to Hermione's surprise, Owen did not make a move. His gaze went directly past the wizard and to the gate of the mansion in the distance.

A middle-aged wizard came out and hurried toward them.

The visitor was Nefertir's father.

His complexion looked even worse than it had been that morning.

"Thank you for coming," he said in English. "Please come in."

The man wore a stiff smile. He adopted a very humble posture, saying, "You can eat something first and wait in the living room."

He invited the two men into the mansion.

Owen, after glancing at Merlin and the group of young wizards with strange tattoos on their bodies in the distance, followed Mr. Tully into the mansion.

Tsk—that familiar tattoo.

I just saw it.

Irving chuckled softly. Looking at the man before him, a deeper meaning appeared in his eyes.

After they had walked a certain distance, Mr. Tully said, "It seems you had a conflict with those little guys?"

Miss Granger, you are more kind than I thought.

"I know you have the ability to defeat them, that's beyond doubt."

"They—" Mr. Tully paused for a moment, then looked down at Hermione before continuing, "They're just spoiled kids."

"I'm not angry about it, sir. I've encountered wizards with terrible tempers before." Hermione was referring, of course, to the Slytherins, but after years of her meticulous work, no one dared to challenge her anymore.

Now she's facing disdain from people her own age—and honestly, she even misses it a little.

"I just..." The little witch glanced sideways at Owen beside her.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm surprised you didn't teach them a lesson," Hermione said with a smile.

"After battling with God, I've seen some things clearly." Owen, holding the girl's hand, said calmly, "The essence of God—is a cruel beast. It feeds on mediocre people, creating countless idiots just to devour them. Only a small number of intelligent people have the chance to climb to the top and stand on the back of God, but He will endlessly try to throw you off. In the end, God will succeed. There is no other way out."

But there are still people who fight against God, and no one knows why; it's incredibly foolish.

Owen spoke cruelly, "Besides, mediocre people will force the intelligent to become like them, resorting to all sorts of means to pull them down and trample them into the mud, as if in this way they can escape mediocrity and the fact that they are food. They enjoy it."

So why should I get into a fight with a bunch of destined food?

As he spoke, the boy suddenly raised his head, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes, and then said leisurely, "Mr. Tully, are you also becoming mediocre?"

Irving's voice wasn't loud, but when it reached the man in front of him, it felt like a heavy blow.

He turned around with a slight tremor, finally focusing his rare attention on Irving.

"Be careful! Be careful!" Irving said lazily. "Once you make a choice, you have to bear the consequences."

"You—" Mr. Tully's expression shifted rapidly in a few seconds, from shock to terror to hesitation. But in the end, he regained his composure and forced a smile as he spoke, "You're joking."

The world isn't that cruel. Gods and monsters are just fictional creations; such things don't exist.

"Yeah—who knows!" Owen rubbed his neck. "Who knows, maybe there is."

He said jokingly, "But if you really want to, I really will kill you, along with this house and everything you cherish."

They had already arrived in the living room. Without saying a word, Owen sat down on the sofa, crossed his legs, placed one hand on the armrest, and rested his cheek on his hand, looking at Mr. Tully with a half-smile.

Silence fell over the living room.

Miss Granger had no idea what had happened.

However, she is definitely on Irving's side.

So she sat down next to Owen, looked up at Mr. Tully, and observed him quietly without saying a word.

"Child, you're too tense. Maybe it's because it's an unfamiliar place. Perhaps you should try some Egyptian tea to ease your nerves." He pointed to the tea on the table.

The steaming tea exudes an intoxicating aroma, making one irresistibly want to take a sip.

"Alright! Why not?" Owen picked up his teacup and handed Hermione a cup as well.

Ancient magic flickered slightly at her fingertips, causing a ripple in the tea.

"Try it," he said.

Hermione took the tea with a puzzled look, then smelled the fragrance emanating from her hand before taking a small sip.

"It smells so good!" A refreshing aroma wafts onto the taste buds, making it truly unforgettable.

Just as she was about to take her second sip, a strong, almost overwhelming wave of dizziness instantly overwhelmed her will.

"Bang!"

Hermione stood up abruptly, and the teacup in her hand fell to the ground.

A powerful magical force surged from her body.

The dizziness made it difficult for her to draw her wand, so she could only try casting spells without a wand.

And of all the curses, she instinctively chose the one with the widest range.

Perhaps it's because she's been practicing a lot lately.

—Origin and Development of Extreme Cold Storms.

Ice crystals instantly spread from beneath her feet.

The steaming blanket was frozen solid in an instant.

The table in front of them—and the sofa beneath them—were all being pushed by the extremely cold ice crystals, or creaking and shaking due to thermal expansion and contraction.

The sound was terrifying.

It gave me the illusion that the earth was shaking.

But—it only lasted for a moment.

Neither the fact that Origin Magic requires a long period of condensation nor Miss Granger's current condition would allow her to actually unleash the magic.

Like a kite with a broken string, she suddenly fell to the ground.

No matter how much she struggled, she couldn't resist the dizziness brought on by the potion. Her eyes felt like they were glued shut, and she finally collapsed onto the floor between the sofa and the table.

"The soul leaves the body!"

On the other side, there was also a fallen teacup at Owen's feet, with tea pooling in the cracks in the floor around Mr. Tully's feet.

He stood there blankly, his eyes as if covered by a milky white curtain. His cheeks twitched violently, but he quickly returned to normal, and his milky white eyeballs became clear again, only appearing more blank than usual.

At that moment—the door on one side of the living room was suddenly pushed open.

"How is it?" an old voice asked.

A large group of people walked into the room, led by an elderly man with a frail face but a very energetic spirit.

He was around sixty or seventy years old.

He was wearing a black suit, with a red gemstone inlaid in his tie, and his leather shoes were polished to a shine and spotless.

But those eyes, those eyes revealed a captivating, greedy light, and coupled with the wrinkles covering his face, made him appear exceptionally cruel and despicable.

"Very successful, they were completely unprepared." Mr. Tully shook his head, as if trying to dispel the dazed feeling in his head.

Then he spoke calmly.

"Well done, Mr. Manlio," the old man said happily.

Along with him, the group of people behind him wearing black feather masks all showed excited expressions.

"The ceremony can begin now!" someone said impatiently, and this was quickly echoed by the others.

"Behave yourselves, gentlemen and ladies. Give our High Priest some private time."

The old man smiled cruelly, then instructed the wizard behind him to take Miss Granger away.

"What about the other one?" someone asked.

"We can't let it go to waste," another wizard said, grabbing Owen by the collar. "He certainly has a fine appearance; it's quite enviable."

The wizard spoke.

Her clear, melodious voice reached everyone's ears.

As she spoke, she reached out and gently stroked Owen's cheek, her eyes suddenly brightening.

It looked like they were tasting food, and it was strangely sinister.

"The feel is also excellent, tsk tsk—this one is mine, you can pick whichever you like outside."

The witch's "swearing of sovereignty" did not provoke opposition from others; in fact, everyone was in a state of mental excitement, in which they could tolerate many things.

However, some of these people remained rational, such as the elderly man who was in the lead.

"Are those monsters ready?" he asked one of the wizards behind him.

The wizard wore some kind of badge on his chest, which Owen would recognize if he opened his eyes—it was the symbol of the Ikur Magical Disability Hospital.

"Everything is already prepared." A smile played on the man's lips. "Tomorrow, this place will be attacked by monsters, and the poor little guys will all be killed. So—we can also apply for some assistance from the Federation. After all, capturing those monsters and clearing out the Muggles who have been caught up in this is no easy task."

"Ha, you've certainly thought this through." The old man smiled cruelly.

"Alright, our High Priest is getting impatient."

Everyone turned around.

The group walked back into the side door in the living room.

Mr. Tully followed behind.

The leading wizard noticed this, but instead of stopping it, he showed a pleased expression.

He then deliberately slowed his pace to walk alongside Mr. Tully.

"I know you have a grudge, Mr. Manlio," the old man said contemptuously. "This time, we're not just here to fulfill the High Priest's demands."

It is also for our sake, to rid the wizarding world of a great scourge.

"A major disaster?" Mr. Manlio Tully said curtly.

"Hmph—how long has that Dumbledore been dominating us? Sixty or seventy years, right? And then what? Voldemort? He's British too. Whoever comes to power after that, will it benefit us?"

And now? You've seen the reports about that tournament held at Hogwarts, and that naval battle. How old is this witch in front of you? Fifteen? Sixteen?

She is destined to become a wizard like Dumbledore, or even stronger, and for the next hundred years, we—except for all of Britain—will continue to be led by the nose by the British.

"Is this a good thing?"

"Ha, he's just become stupid from studying too much. He actually thinks the outside world is friendly and peaceful." Someone in the crowd mocked, and soon such sarcasm rose and fell.

These people are all hostile to the federation.

"Hmph—the Federation would love for the collapse of the global Ministry of Magic so they can notify the world without lifting a finger."

"It's utterly foolish that anyone actually believes Dumbledore's theory of prosperity through cooperation!"

The old wizard, however, did not intervene. Instead, he continued, "Do you think your father—the Minister of Magic—is unaware of this?"

"He just didn't want to get his hands dirty. He wanted her dead as soon as possible more than any of us. And if that's the case, why not make her death more meaningful?"

The old wizard walked with a light and confident gait, his fingertips trembling slightly as if he were holding onto fate.

His eyes were deep and bright, like an endless abyss from which allure emanated.

The seductive voice didn't end there. Soon, that magnetic, mellow voice rang out again, "After this matter is over, in addition to our agreement to return your daughter, the High Priest will also bestow other rewards."

His tone was calm and deep, gently falling on the man before him, "The High Priest will extract some of this witch's talent and spirit and bestow it upon Neferpitou."

"Mr. Manlio, do you know what a great reward this is?"

"This means that your Tali family will produce a powerful sorcerer who will dominate Egypt for a hundred years."

Compared to these things, don't the lives and deaths of those good-for-nothings outside seem insignificant?

Upon hearing this, Mr. Tully hesitated for a moment. He lowered his head in thought, his fingers unconsciously twirling in the air.

The old wizard seemed to read his mind and continued, "Mr. Manlio, you are a wise man. You must understand that sometimes we must make sacrifices for the greater good. Moreover, such necessary sacrifices can weaken the enemy's strength, so why not do it?"

The old man's voice seemed to possess a magical power, causing Mr. Tully's heart to begin to waver.

Mr. Tully then took a deep breath and nodded. His decision seemed to become clear at that moment. He looked up at the old man and said firmly, "I understand. I will do as you instruct."

A slight smile appeared on the old wizard's lips. He knew that he had completely convinced this man. He extended his hand and shook hands with Mr. Manlio, as if celebrating their understanding and consensus.

"Welcome, welcome to our official membership—the Chosen Ones."

"A chosen one of the gods?" Mr. Tully was taken aback. Then a milky white light appeared in his eyes, and his cheek twitched involuntarily.

Faced with the person's question, the old wizard didn't offer any explanation. Instead, he chuckled and strode forward, continuing deeper into the narrow corridor behind the door.

A group of people crowded together in the corridor.

There are many rooms on both sides.

The walls are carved with murals.

The road seemed very long, and they walked for quite a while.

Finally, a wooden staircase leading downwards appeared before them.

Leading to the depths of the earth, whose depths are unseen.

Without pausing, the group continued walking down.

After passing through an oak door, the view suddenly opened up.

A huge basement appeared.

It was dark and damp, as if isolated from the outside world. The surrounding stone walls were hard and cold, covered with the marks of time and moss.

A few dim lights barely illuminated the space, creating a mysterious and eerie atmosphere.

A musty smell filled the air, making it feel suffocating. Occasionally, rats scurried around in the corners, making rustling noises, which only added to the eerie atmosphere of the basement.

In the center of the basement, on an altar, stood a tall wooden stake.

The top is carved with complex, indistinct human figures in a very abstract style. If you don't look closely, you would just think it's some kind of monster.

The rest of the pillar is covered with ancient runes.

Countless intricate ring patterns intertwine, shimmering with an eerie green glow.

And amidst this glow.

A witch with a hunched back stood out.

The main thing is the long robe she was wearing.

It looked like it was pieced together from countless rags, standing out from the crowd of hypocrites.

"High Priest, the man has been captured," the leading elder said respectfully as he stepped forward.

"Place it on the altar," the old priest said, feigning indifference, but his open eyes suddenly flashed with a sharp light.

After watching the wizard place Miss Granger on the altar, he eagerly stepped forward.

She stretched out her withered, wooden fingers and lingered on Hermione's cheek, as if admiring a beloved work of art.

"Good—very good!" This time, she could no longer suppress the ecstasy in her heart.

Her eyes were filled with a greedy glint, as if she wanted to devour Hermione alive.

And that's pretty much what she's about to do.

The surrounding wizards respectfully stepped aside.

Mr. Tali, who had followed, also quietly stepped back behind the others.

The old priest glanced at the people around him.

A hint of mockery flashed across his lips.

Ah—how could these people understand?

When a young heart beats in one's chest.

When that gifted soul is put to use.

When this destined person, recognized by the gods and the demon king, became her torso.

Is there anything more delightful than this?

She reached out and touched the wooden pole.

Then he began to recite an extremely evil prayer.

Recite it over and over again.

A full five minutes passed.

Then she cut her finger, pressing the crimson blood against Miss Granger's forehead, and began to draw intricate ancient runes in the air.

The magical runes arranged and combined, gradually forming a complex and dazzling magical rune in the void.

"Waaaaah~~~"

The towering wooden pole, topped with a statue, resembled a monstrous figure that suddenly emitted a phantom image.

It was obvious that the phantom was a young child.

Around ten years old.

This time, he didn't even maintain his human form for a few seconds before twisting and turning into a silvery, viscous substance in the old priest's hands.

The viscous substance dripped from the old priest's hand, his blood-dripping fingers landing on Hermione's forehead.

next second.

Hermione on the stone platform suddenly opened her eyes.

"Hmm?" The old priestess was surprised, her eyes quickly sweeping over the surrounding wizards.

He cursed these useless people in his heart; they couldn't even handle such a small matter.

However, this is hardly an accident.

With her other hand, she pulled out a short, thick wand, probably only about eight inches long, resembling a fire poker, and pressed it against Miss Granger's neck.

"If you don't want your neck cut off, don't resist." The old witch uttered a string of perfect English, her voice low and hoarse, carrying a chillingly sinister quality.

"What do you want to do?"

Hermione did not resist, but lay quietly, her brown eyes coldly staring at the witch in front of her.

"Don't worry," the old priest chuckled cruelly, "I want to take something from you."

"What?"

"Soul, memory, talent, body," she said, emphasizing each word.

"you"

Upon hearing this, Hermione immediately chose to fight back.

But the old priest was chanting some strange incantation, and ancient magic made her body seem to be pulled by some force, heavily adhering to the stone platform.

The wizards around them also took out their wands.

They had all read the newspapers and seen the powerful witch above the sea and beneath the stars.

Even though she seems to be bound at this moment, there's no guarantee she won't have some backup plan. What they've done is something that could cost them their lives. If she escapes, they'll only face wanted notices and endless pursuit.

Therefore, they dared not underestimate them.

"You—" Bound, Hermione's eyes could only look straight at the huge wooden pillar in front of her.

Looking at the grotesque monster carvings on it.

She quickly realized that she had seen this monster-shaped altar before.

This is roughly what the goblins' altar looked like at Hogwarts, where Lady Hufflepuff rested in peace.

"What is your relationship with the fairy?" She felt the gravity beneath her.

Although it was powerful, it did not prevent her from casting spells.

Moreover, it's not like you can't break free.

Force field magic can interfere with it, and she can escape in just a brief moment.

"Fairies?" The old priest was taken aback, then said disdainfully, "It's a matter of mutual benefit; they have quite a few good things on them."

Miss Granger's right hand was imbued with magic.

His face still showed tension and anger. "Do you know what you're doing? What if I die here?"

"You don't need to worry about that. The British will suffer the consequences this time."

"Now—" The priest laughed arrogantly, and the amount of soul energy he was channeling suddenly increased.

Hermione had no idea what she was doing.

But suddenly her head started spinning.

Moreover, she suddenly became more sensitive to everything around her, and in her blur, she seemed to "see" the faces of the wizards around her.

(End of this chapter)