I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 392 The Restaurant is on the Other Side

Hermione sat on the sofa, holding a cup of iced tea in her hand.

Her eyes kept glancing at Ms. Wenda Rozier sitting opposite her, and she couldn't help feeling nervous.

Irving was talking to Ms. Rozier, but Irving did most of the talking while she remained silent.

She sat upright on the sofa, elegant and confident. Her eyes were sharp, seemingly able to see right through people. This made Hermione very uncomfortable.

Hermione carefully took another sip of tea, trying to calm her nerves.

She didn't understand why she felt so afraid and uneasy about this elegant witch.

They were like natural enemies.

Despite her efforts to control her emotions, she always felt a strange sense of oppression whenever Ms. Rozier looked at her.

It wasn't just the scene that resembled meeting the parents; more importantly, it was the irreconcilable tension between two conflicting personalities that created a sense of alienation, which was the main reason for Hermione's nervousness.

She couldn't stand attending parties with too much formality, especially when facing pure-blood aristocratic families.

This way, she could only slightly shift her attention to other places.

For example, take a look around this ornately decorated manor, or admire the paintings on the walls.

In the past half hour, Irving and she had told Sirius everything that had happened in Egypt.

After listening to their story, the other party didn't stop at all.

After taking the four monsters disguised as humans from the suitcase, he left with the other two wizards from the alliance.

Professor Lupin was left behind by Sirius Black as a "tool" to look after them.

As for why Sirius didn't leave it behind himself, Hermione guessed it might be because Sirius disliked the Rozier family, a pure-blood family. He was at odds with several members of the Rozier family, and the magnificent manor alone would evoke some unpleasant memories for him.

Let Professor Lupin handle the social aspects.

He has a gentle nature, which is perfect for this kind of work, and he has been doing this kind of work since leaving Hogwarts.

As for Bill—he doesn't want to leave.

Her eyes remained fixed on the pink-haired man.

He had been wanting to go up and talk to Master Merlin.

For a wizard with an archaeological background, getting autographs and photos, and if he could learn the truth about some legends from the other person, it would be the best gift.

Unfortunately, the other party was talking to a little elf, and Sirius was calling him urgently.

Moreover, after exchanging a few words with the elf, the wizard Merlin left the manor with a bright look in his eyes.

He really didn't have much of a chance.

Helpless, they could only leave with Sirius, hoping for another chance in the future.

As for Irving—he's actively trying to curry favor with her.

Ever since he got beaten up for saying, "Grandma, you're not at work?"

They started to fawn over him with smiles.

They were massaging my legs and shoulders.

In short, he was trying to awaken the little bit of maternal love that the witch in front of him had.

As for Wenda, she accepted all comers' requests. She would put her legs up on a soft stool, hold a thick sheet of parchment in her hands, and make corrections on it from time to time, while Owen ran around beside her without saying a word.

That's why Hermione felt even more solemn.

And—maybe I'm just being too sensitive.

Did that woman glance at her from time to time?

"Cough cough—"

Hermione quickly put down her teacup.

She tasted the tea repeatedly, and the hot tea eventually turned into cold tea.

She was lost in thought just now, which is why she almost choked on the water.

Then, she quickly turned her head away, pretending to look around at the scenery.

This is an extremely luxurious manor.

The spacious and bright living room features a smooth, mirror-like marble floor and an exquisite chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Sunlight streamed into the entrance hall through the window where the ceiling met the wall.

At the end of the living room is a corridor leading to each of the rooms.

The walls on both sides are covered with some valuable paintings and decorations.

Even though Hermione had no artistic background, she could recognize that more than a dozen of those paintings were by world-class artists, because their styles were so distinctive that you could see posters or GGs based on their paintings everywhere.

Hermione seemed determined to immerse herself completely in the works of the Impressionist movement, which originated in France in the second half of the nineteenth century.

I wanted to find the author's true intention in those brightly colored lines.

Among these paintings, one in particular caught her eye.

In the painting, a flock of crows takes flight above a wheat field.

The bright yellow wheat fields echoed the almost blackish blue sky.

It evokes a strong sense of desolation, sorrow, and despair.

Moreover, with the blessing of magic, the originally static painting came to life and flow.

This intensified the feeling of sadness.

"Ah—I really had a good drink this time!"

Hermione was lost in the sorrow of the painting.

A cheerful voice saved her!

Master Merlin.

After hearing from the Rozier family's house-elf that the estate had an underground wine cellar, he rushed off to that paradise where red wine flowed.

They drank for a full half hour before returning.

"Merlin, you..." Hermione averted her gaze from the painting.

He quickly stood up and pretended to go over to greet her, deliberately emphasizing the word "Merlin" in his speech, trying to stir up the quiet atmosphere in the living room.

"Oh—girls are indeed more polite." Merlin approached, patted Hermione on the shoulder, and then smiled as he leaned on his staff and sat down with her on the sofa in the living room.

"Politeness my foot!" Owen immediately jumped out, thinking that he couldn't tell that the guy was indirectly saying that he was impolite?

"You bastard—" He was about to explode when he suddenly caught a whiff of the aroma of alcohol. Instantly, Owen knew where Merlin had been for the past half hour.

"You went and stole my wine, didn't you?!" Owen instantly flew into a rage. "You stole my money first, and now you're stealing my wine? Does the great magician Merlin enjoy stealing so much?"

Owen's shout was louder than Hermione's.

Okay—actually, his intentions were the same as Hermione's.

They were all trying to get Wenda's attention.

Um—mainly because his hands were so sore.

His grandmother just wouldn't say a word, leaving him in a dilemma: should he stop or not?

As for the wine Merlin stole—was it his wine? Although the Rosier family was nominally supposed to listen to him, if he actually asked for a few hundred thousand Galleons to be deposited into his account, believe it or not, his grandmother would hang him in front of the manor gate and beat him up immediately.

He's just a figurehead, the emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, Cao Cao's Emperor Xian. Who does his family actually listen to? Well, that's this old woman in front of him, of course.

The two young wizards' deliberate shouting finally caught Wenda's attention.

She slowly put down the parchment she needed to correct, removed her legs from the low stool and crossed them naturally, then leaned forward slightly and rested her head on the armrest of the sofa.

A pair of striking gray eyes slowly fell upon Merlin.

On the other side—at a table and chairs in another part of the living room—Professor Lu Ping also raised his head.

Before him lay a multitude of documents—plans that the federation would implement this year, and the secretariat where Professor Lupin worked needed to draft them as soon as possible.

What he has on hand is part of the draft, and he is working hard to approve and revise it.

"Who are you?" Wenda asked softly.

Then the tea cabinet by the wall opened automatically, and teacups and teapots floated in front of her.

Then a cup of deep red liquid flowed into the teacup.

Slowly, the teacup fell into her hand.

She took a sip of tea, but her eyes remained fixed on the Archmage Merlin.

She was somewhat wary of this unfamiliar wizard, but because Owen was with him, she didn't make a sound.

However—as the hostess, she always has the right to know the identity of the visiting guest.

"Oh!" Merlin leaned back on the sofa, his staff turning into flower petals and disappearing. Then he looked at Wenda with surprise, "You are the little witch who tried to break open the Sea of ​​Stars back then?"

It's been a while. Looks like you accepted my thank-you gift.

"A thank-you gift?" Wenda frowned, becoming even more wary of this overly familiar fellow. Based on past experience, such a person was only here to swindle some Galleons or to covet the status and knowledge of the Rozier family.

Some even go so far as to try to get their daughters into high society through this scheme.

There have been far too many such guys over the centuries.

"It can't really be called a thank-you gift," Merlin said casually, rubbing his chin. "It's the prize for the test, which anyone who solves it will receive."

"Heh—you're really confusing me. Do we know each other?" Wenda said coldly.

Merlin chuckled, a sly glint in his eyes, seemingly quite pleased with Wenda's wariness. He answered casually, "Yes, I have. I have seen you before. And your interesting experiments."

"He's Merlin," Owen immediately chimed in, fanning the flames. "He's outside Earth, observing humanity for centuries. He's also a prophet with EX-level telescopic vision. Everything that's happening here is his doing. In short, if there's a problem, you can't go wrong by finding him."

"Merlin?" Wenda's brows furrowed even deeper. She put down her teacup, her expression turning serious.

When she heard the word "experiment," her calm heart was stirred.

There were some secrets—known to very few—that she didn't believe this young wizard, who dared to impersonate Merlin, would know.

"I remember you. You were a key link. In hundreds of years, you were the first witch to successfully carve through the Sea of ​​Stars and make contact with the gods," Merlin said casually.

Their eyes also scanned the paintings on the wall.

Then, without realizing it, he revealed a shocking secret: "All those people before me failed."

I had no choice but to make the Weasleys take on responsibilities they shouldn't have, in order to delay the birth of someone.

"."

Upon hearing this, Wenda's pupils contracted.

A strong sense of unease welled up inside me.

An extremely absurd idea arose in her mind.

Were those stone tablets she found at that ancient site in North America deliberately placed there?

No—impossible. Those ruins are at least a thousand years old. How old could this person be?

Unless—unless he really is Merlin.

Wenda took a deep breath, trying to calm her shock. She looked at the young wizard before her, her mind racing.

Merlin Merlin

Could such a person really still be alive?

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.

Meanwhile, Owen's attention was also drawn to Wenda and Merlin's conversation. The thief—he'd just mentioned something he'd never heard of. He couldn't help but ask, "What do you mean? Who were those guys before?"

When faced with Owen's question, Merlin did not evade it, but instead said directly, "Do you think it's easy to deceive the gods?"

Oh—I have a perfect body here, come and take it!

If only it were that easy.

His gaze lingered between Owen and Wenda. "The person who carries out this plan must have other firm goals, or rather, beliefs, so that they will not be doubted during the divine intervention. In addition, she must complete various tests from the divine, tests that will last for decades."

Only in this way is success possible.

"The wizards before me couldn't even get past the first hurdle. After seeing the stone tablet I left behind, most of them turned to evil and became the kind of creatures you just saw, or their abilities were too limited to produce any results."

"What do you mean? You were involved with those people in Ionia City too?" Owen's expression gradually hardened. Originally, he just wanted to distract his grandmother, but now, the conversation had become quite extensive, and ultimately it would all come down to him.

"Creating variables." Merlin remained calm, even though what he was saying might be stained with the blood and lives of hundreds or thousands of people, but when he said it, it was as easy as stating what to eat for lunch.

"The threads of fate are not static. What brings fate to fruition is often related to personal choices. In a larger system, if there are enough variables, miracles may be born."

A hero who saves the world or something.

If we can achieve our goal along the way, that would be best; if not, it won't harm us either.

"Harmless?" Owen sneered. "The Cult of the Chosen has been wreaking havoc on various continents for at least several hundred years. The number of dead and wounded could probably fill an entire manor. If that's what you call harmless, then it is indeed quite harmless."

"So they disappeared, didn't they?" Merlin said.

"you"

the first time.

For the first time, Irving realized the coldness and cruelty of the person in front of him.

To defeat the Outer God, he was truly ruthless and absolutely rational. Perhaps in his heart, anyone was a pawn to be manipulated, and he would stop at nothing to achieve his goal.

A more brutal version of Dumbledore?

How similar he is to that principal.

"Wait—" Owen suddenly thought of something.

He walked towards Merlin. "To what extent were you involved in this plan?"

If you want to guarantee my birth, then the union of mother and father is necessary.

"Yes, I was the one who led it," he admitted immediately.

"Then my maternal grandmother met my maternal grandfather."

"I was the one who guided them."

"And what about my maternal grandfather?"

"The encounter of destiny is the most important thing; all subsequent events begin in Godric Valley, which is merely the source."

"Fuck." Owen stared intently at Merlin. He had never been so emotionally distraught as he was now. Before, when he learned that his fate had already been arranged by the Archmage Merlin, Owen was actually more indifferent. He was just a wandering soul, and he had already died once. Living for another second was a bonus. As for Merlin's purpose, he couldn't care less.

But he wouldn't allow those around him to be part of the schemes of the person in front of him.

For a moment, Irving felt like Snape facing Dumbledore.

"Then that strange magical world I visited in my dream before." He felt a chill run down his spine, and involuntarily recalled the first playthrough of that dream.

That strange, yet perfectly magical world.

"Legend has it that Merlin taught King Arthur the art of governing through his dreams when he was young." Merlin did not answer directly, but instead told his legend.

"You," Irving seemed to choke, this was his biggest secret result—it was all fake too.

Panting, it took him a long time to speak, "Why—why did you enter my dream and pull me into that kind of world?"

"Hmm—this is a test," Merlin said calmly, his usual frivolous demeanor turning serious.

"A test?" Irving raised an eyebrow.

"I want to know, in a flawed world, in a situation where you're placed on the side of evil, what choices would you make?"

"So, my choice wasn't bad," Irving mocked.

"Yes."

"What if I make the wrong choice?"

"I wouldn't mind waiting another thousand years," Merlin said calmly.

"You fucking—you deserve to die!" Owen roared, then grabbed Merlin's shawl and shouted, "I—they are all free, not pawns or playthings on your chessboard."

But Merlin ignored his anger and continued to calmly explain his point: "In this world, some people are destined to play important roles and fight for greater interests. Their fate may not be entirely in their own hands, but their choices and actions can affect the fate of countless others."

Owen glared at Merlin, the mysterious man who seemed to know everything, which filled him with a sense of powerless anger and frustration. But Owen knew that no matter how angry he was, he couldn't change Merlin's mind.

"Besides, I respected their will."

He reached out and gently tapped Owen's forehead. The next moment, Owen suddenly appeared beside Wenda.

"Or, you could ask your grandmother if she regrets meeting the wizard Gellert Grindelwald. Ask that wizard Grindelwald if he regrets meeting Albus Dumbledore."

"I did not desecrate their will, but merely fueled it."

"Hmph—how interesting."

Wenda suddenly reached out and grabbed Owen, preventing him from rushing over and kicking the seemingly calm guy.

"Do you know who you sound like right now?"

"Who?"

"Like my grandfather, like Grindelwald." Irving looked at him mockingly. "No matter how great the excuse, it can't change the fact that the things you do are disgusting."

"Hiding in the shadows, plotting their own self-righteous justice."

"Perhaps." He didn't refute it, but got up on his own, the staff reappearing in his hands. "Just take this as a joke by a foolish man who has interfered with the fates of countless people for fun."

Merlin chuckled. "Well, compared to these intangible things, eating is definitely more important. When shall we eat?"

"Hey—you guys are all hungry after a fight!"

"."

Silence fell over the surroundings; no one spoke.

"Alright, since no one has much of an appetite, I'm going to go have another drink."

Having said that, he leaned on his staff and walked step by step toward the outside of the manor.

The silhouette of the lone figure was reflected on the marble floor tiles.

His steps were light yet firm, his pace still steady.

"etc--"

Just as Merlin was about to leave through the living room door, Owen roared, "Why did you tell me all this—is this some kind of test, just to see how I react?"

Upon hearing this, Merlin stopped in his tracks, then rubbed his head and turned around. "Ahaha—it seems so."

"Go to hell." Owen grabbed her grandmother's teacup and threw it like a bomb.

Unfortunately, the teacup passed straight through Merlin's body without causing him any harm.

"Haha—that's only a matter of time." With that, the annoying figure completely disappeared from the front doorway.

Owen sat down next to Wenda, panting, his mind filled with thoughts of Jiang Tao.

He stared at the paintings on the wall beside him.

He also noticed the painting, the restlessness hidden in the empty field.

Between heaven and earth, it was as if a whirlwind had suddenly risen, and waves had surged.

There is not a trace of peace.

That painting seems to be foreshadowing something.

It was his doomed fate.

"What kind of riddle are you and that wizard playing?" At that moment, a cold voice entered Owen's ears.

He glanced at Wenda, then said in a seemingly calm tone, "It's nothing, just kidding."

"Are you joking?" Grandma placed her hand on Owen's head, a half-smile playing on her lips, as if a storm was brewing.

"Knowing too much is bad for your health, you're over ninety," Wenda said, pinching Owen's cheek and lifting it up.

Owen struggled a couple of times, but after feeling the pressure on his cheek increase, he said helplessly, "Um—dear, beautiful and elegant Grandma, can we eat now?"

I'm hungry.

"Hungry?" Wenda let go of Owen's hand and looked at him with a complicated expression. She knew that the little guy was changing the subject. She could feel the turbulent emotions behind his feigned ease.

Her gaze also fell on the painting on the wall.

That's what she brought back.

She discovered the painting during her most vulnerable period.

The only thing that sustained her during that time was her daughter.

Her daughter's strong interest in learning forced her to shift her attention to teaching, which indirectly alleviated her pain at the time.

"Get up." She rubbed Owen's cheek, which she had pinched until it was slightly red.

"The restaurant is on the other side."

(End of this chapter)