I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 411 Christmas Dinner

"Oh—that's wonderful!" Hermione said happily. "Voldemort is now deserted by everyone, so defeating him will be easier and easier."

"Not simple either—" Owen glanced at Hermione.

Then a bucket of cold water was poured over the little witch's head. "Now we know that Voldemort can also create Imposters. If given time, wouldn't he be able to pull out an army of Imposters? Those things are much more loyal than Death Eaters, fearless, and have the ability to infect and mutate. They are much harder to deal with than simple wizards."

"Well—" Hearing Owen say that, Hermione's happy face instantly fell.

As a direct participant in the War of the Sea Gods and the First War of the Wizards, Hermione had witnessed the infectious power of that mutated flesh.

When Muggles and wizards are infected, they become "Omens".

The legendary Outer God also creates monsters called "Godskin Messengers," presumably using that mutated flesh and blood.

Then there was the African priestess, the "imposter" in human skin; she also seemed to be an infected person with mutated flesh.

But he retained his rationality.

In short, that strange thing was extremely dangerous and terrifying.

If Voldemort were to unleash it on a massive scale—for example, in a megacity like London—the number of people infected would be unimaginable.

"The only thing we can do now is to strengthen our ties with the new Death Eaters, represented by Bella," Owen said. "That way, at least we'll know in advance what Voldemort's schemes are up to."

"That's true." Hermione nodded.

We have to admit that this is indeed the only way things can be.

The two continued talking as they walked.

In the blink of an eye, we arrived at the entrance to the principal's office.

They didn't give the password.

But the stone beast came to life and jumped to the side, and the wall behind it split in two, revealing a section of stone stairs that kept rising, like a spiral escalator.

As they stepped onto the stairs, the wall snapped shut behind them.

The stairs spiraled upwards, leading to a gleaming oak door with a bronze knocker in the shape of a griffin.

Irving pushed open the oak door to the principal's office.

I went inside. The room was dimly lit. The strange silver instruments on the table sat quietly instead of humming and emitting puffs of smoke as usual. The portraits of past principals on the wall were snoring in their frames.

Dumbledore is not here.

He must have gone to the magic palace to discuss something with Barty Crouch.

He had anticipated these things.

After surveying the room's layout, Owen strode to the corner where the Sorting Hat cabinet stood, waved his wand, and the lower cabinet opened, revealing the Pensieve and some glass bottles floating out.

He picked up a new glass bottle, then took out his wand with his right hand, pressed the tip of the wand to his temple, and pulled out a strand of silver thread—the memory of his conversation with Bella.

Driven by the tip of the staff, the silver thread fell into the glass bottle.

He then placed the glass bottle in the most conspicuous position on the cabinet.

"Headmasters, if Professor Dumbledore returns, please inform him to view this memory; it contains very important information," Owen said to the portraits of past headmasters on the wall.

"Okay, we will," Principal Delis Deventer said, opening her eyes and smiling at them.

This healer at the St. Goman's Hospital of Magical Injuries was arguably the most benevolent of all the headmasters.

"Hey—you brat, disturbing our peaceful sleep again!" Some of the principals expressed their condemnation of him.

After all, Irving was a regular in the principal's office; he frequented it often last year.

Sometimes it's even late at night.

"This kid has probably already gained the office's approval; he can probably come and go freely without even needing a password." At this moment, another portrait of the principal spoke up; it was Sirius's great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Kid!" he stared at Owen. "Looks like you have a chance to become the headmaster of Hogwarts someday!"

"When I become headmaster, the first thing I'll do is move you out!" Owen said. This headmaster Black, who came from Slytherin, was always arguing with him. After all, Owen couldn't physically harm him since he wasn't a living person. He was just a portrait, and his constant chatter was really annoying.

"Alright—I'm leaving." He waved his hand, grabbed Hermione, and quickly headed to the office, giving Black no chance to retaliate.

As they descended the spiral staircase, Hermione asked him curiously, "Owen, what did that headmaster mean by 'office approval'?"

"It's the Headmaster's office's approval," Owen explained. "Like many things at Hogwarts, the Headmaster's office has its own will. No one can enter that office without a password except for the approved Headmaster."

"Wow—" Hermione exclaimed in surprise, "You didn't say the password just now. Are you really planning to become the headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"I've had that thought." Owen rubbed his chin. "As for me—I don't want to graduate from Hogwarts."

The two returned to the auditorium.

George and Fred were nowhere to be seen at the long table.

They must have already gone home.

Ginny, however, is still around.

She sat with Luna.

"Everyone's here?" Owen walked over. "Alright, get your things packed, we're ready to go."

Hermione was quite surprised to see Ginny still there.

Her eyes kept darting back and forth between Harry and Ginny.

Then he quickly walked forward.

He whispered something to her.

Everyone else present also stood up one by one.

Everyone gathered together and followed in Irving's footsteps, leaving the auditorium and the entrance, and heading down the mountain.

"So you decided to go to Paris with Harry just because he glanced at you twice?"

Luna, Ginny, and Hermione walked side by side.

When Miss Granger learned the whole story, she covered her forehead in dismay.

I really don't know what to say.

"I...I..." Ginny suddenly started stammering, her usual liveliness, straightforwardness, enthusiasm, and courage completely gone.

"Okay, okay!" Hermione rubbed her forehead. She had always hoped that Ginny could be more self-reliant and not put all her feelings on Harry, since Harry had never shown any affection for Ginny.

But that's how feelings are; sometimes they don't go according to one's will.

"This could very well be the first time you and Harry spend Christmas alone together," Hermione said, noting that most of the young wizards present were preoccupied with their own things, but had stayed together the whole time.

This gave Ginny and Harry the opportunity to be alone together.

"This is the last time," Ginny said.

She decided to take the initiative this Christmas. Perhaps it was because Owen and Hermione were always so lovey-dovey that it irritated her. Normally, she wouldn't have had the courage to face Harry directly.

"Yes!" Hermione nodded.

the other side.

The group had already walked quite a distance down the mountain path.

The snow fell heavier and heavier, and the wind began to howl.

However, the young wizards' interest only grew.

A row of footprints was left in the snow, and finally they left the Hogwarts area.

Irving was facing a rock wall.

Such rock walls are found all over the Scottish Highlands, likely formed by geological processes.

Hard, ancient, and marked by the passage of time, the ravines on this rock face are an epic in themselves.

Owen took his magic clock out of his pocket.

The magic wand gently tapped the hands, and the clock with only the hour hand automatically moved to the number five. Then it floated and adhered to the stone wall.

The next second, the stone wall seemed to turn into water, and the clock actually merged into it in a ripple.

Subsequently, many regular patterns began to appear on the stone wall. As the patterns increased, they eventually formed the shape of a door.

The door solidified from nothingness.

It was a brown oak door.

There was a conspicuous metal sign on the door that read "5".

Then, Irving pushed open the door.

Welcome to Paris.

Behind the door lies Rozier's estate.

"Oh my goodness, how amazing!" the young wizards exclaimed.

"What kind of magic is this?" Luna asked, her round eyes wide.

"Is it a door key?" Ginny asked. "No, it's not a door key."

"We used a door key during the World Cup, and that dizzying experience was practically like Apparition. Now we just walk through a door and we're in Paris—it's so easy."

Harry, Ron, and the others walked through the gate one by one.

They knew that Owen possessed such a magical artifact, but they had never asked about its workings.

"This was Nicolas Flamel's invention; I call it the Anywhere Door," Irving said.

Everyone passed through the door. He took out his wand, knocked on the door frame, and the next second, the door slammed shut, then blurred into patterns, and then spat out the clock again.

"It works the same as a door key, but its advantage is that it can be set to multiple target locations. However, it's considered an outdated product."

"Outdated product?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "You call this an outdated product?"

"Victor has invented an even better teleportation spell after improvements. It's the stone door he uses to cast the spell in his office."

"That's called—Warp Magic," Owen said. "It's a kind of magic that can traverse continents and achieve arbitrary global coordinate shifts. It's much more powerful than this."

"Good heavens—I had no idea." This time it was Hermione's turn to be surprised. As one of only two young wizards present who had taken alchemy, she had no idea that Victor had invented such a powerful spell.

"There's a lot you don't know," Owen said with a smile. "Snape even invented the Shadowstep Spell, did anyone know that?"

"Alright." He led the young wizards into the manor.

The weather in Paris is slightly warmer than in the Scottish Highlands, but not by much.

It just didn't snow.

Moreover, it was mainly because the fire in the manor was burning brightly that it felt warm, not cold at all.

"Speedy—Speedy!" Owen called out twice as he entered the empty living room.

The next second, the sprite did not appear.

A small white beast suddenly darted out.

It's Sirocco.

To be honest, he forgot about the little guy.

For the three months it was in the hospital, the little elf took care of it.

As for Bakkar.

Hagrid would be more than happy to take care of the dragon.

"Meow—" The kitten jumped into his arms.

Then Spiegel appeared.

"Sir, you're back." It looked at Owen respectfully, and was wary of the many young wizards around him.

"Going home for the holidays!" Owen glanced at the female elf. The only difference between male and female elves was their voices; he couldn't tell the difference from their appearance.

So thin—she had virtually no feminine features whatsoever.

He teased the kitten's neck, then said to the little wizards behind him, "Wherever you want to go, look for Spiby, and it will take you there."

"Hmm—the Rozier family has quite a few elves—enough to take care of you. Hmm—they're all working people, not slaves."

Owen glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, and sure enough, the little witch's face turned ugly.

"In short, she knows where you're going."

"Understood!" the others said.

Neville was the first to find Spike.

He was in a hurry to go to the hospital to visit his parents.

Harry wasn't in a hurry. He had made an appointment with Sirius and he only needed to wait at Rozier's manor.

Ron is in the same boat, waiting for Bill.

As for Ginny, she's wherever Harry goes, of course.

Only Luna—she's going to the hidden place tomorrow (the magical district of Paris, similar to Diagon Alley). Her father is already there waiting for her.

So you can only stay here for one night at most.

They started making a ruckus in the manor.

Irving and Neville rushed to the hospital.

He has several surgeries to perform, and Neville needs to take care of his family.

Sirius arrived at the manor in the afternoon.

Bill and his girlfriend Fleur also came with them.

The two met in Paris. Compared to Fleur, who had just graduated, Bill, who had been working for several years, was witty, humorous, and knowledgeable, and immediately caught Fleur's attention.

The two of them got together so smoothly.

Fleur also brought her younger sister, Gabrielle Delacour.

The little girl became very close to Harry and his friends because of what happened at the top of Azkaban's Tower. Her calling them "brother" and "sister" was very endearing.

Night was falling.

The owner of the manor has finally returned.

Wenda entered the manor alone, dressed in a thick black robe and wearing a hood.

The laughter rising from the living room startled her.

After recognizing their identities, she resumed her steps.

Inside the room, everyone was busy decorating for Christmas.

Several people sang Christmas carols under a huge Christmas tree, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.

"Ms. Rozier, oh, oh..." Hermione was the first young wizard to notice Vanda's return.

For some reason, Miss Granger was nine-tenths afraid of the elegant witch in front of her.

It wasn't the kind of fear that's dangerous.

Perhaps it's because she's an impulsive girl; she always feels uncomfortable when she's with Wenda.

"If you don't mind, just call me Grandma like Owen does," Wenda said calmly.

Spike appeared and took the robe from her hands.

"Okay, Grandma," Hermione said in an almost inaudible voice.

She was extremely embarrassed.

But just as she was about to search for another crevice in the ground...

Another wizard came to the door.

This is Victor, a familiar face to the young wizards.

"Professor Victor?" Ron and the others were quite surprised.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

Viktor, dressed in a deep blue robe and leaning on a cane with his right hand, slowly walked in.

"Teacher," he said as he approached Wenda.

"Hmm." The witch responded from the sofa, then continued to gaze at the Christmas tree, lost in thought.

"Ms. Rozier is my mentor. We spend every Christmas together."

"That's right!" A voice came from outside the door at that moment.

Three people walked in.

Hermione and Harry only knew one of them.

Garona Nome, a researcher at the Italian Ministry of Magic.

She was a girl with bright golden hair and light green eyes. She was very young, looking only in her early twenties.

They had met before in the War of the Sea Gods.

"That fat guy is Winston, and the short guy is Kent," Garona said with a bright smile to Harry, Hermione, and Sirius.

"Teacher, another year has passed, and you are still so young and beautiful."

"Hey—I call this voluptuous!" the wizard named Winston said angrily.

"Merry Christmas, teacher."

"I don't even know when I got the nickname 'shorty'," Kent said.

Merry Christmas, teacher.

"Mm!" Wenda simply replied. "Please, sit wherever you like."

The young wizards didn't recognize these people.

Bill, however, seemed to know them quite well.

The group chatted and laughed.

Harry and his friends could get the gist of their conversation from it.

These are the backbone of various European countries, from the Ministries of Magic in Italy, France, and Germany.

They were all very young, the oldest being only twenty-five, and the youngest, Garona and Victor, were only twenty-one years old today.

Good heavens! The young wizards were all shocked.

Given Professor Victor's expertise in alchemy, it's no wonder he's considered a leader in alchemy, surpassing Dumbledore and even the next generation of alchemists. Who would have thought he's only twenty-one?

They had always thought Professor Victor was just younger-looking.

In addition, the observant Hermione also noticed that all three people, including Professor Victor, had disabilities.

Professor Victor is lame.

Garona's left eye looked a little unnatural; she thought it must be the Demon Eye.

Kent's left hand is a prosthesis.

Winston's entire left arm is a prosthesis.

Owen once told her that Victor's limp might have been caused by his research into ancient magic. He tried to use ancient magic to enhance his body, but failed, resulting in a disability in his right leg.

Because it's ancient magic, all modern treatments are useless.

He can only stay like this forever.

However, he should be able to heal himself by now, but for some reason he has been delaying it.

Perhaps it's a warning to myself!

Conversely, the other three might also be for the same reason.

She looked away.

Their gaze returned to Wenda.

That woman, embodying melancholy, seemed never to smile.

She sat on the sofa, like a statue created by an ancient Greek craftsman, a living embodiment of Venus, the goddess of beauty.

The orange glow of the fireplace cast a warm blanket over her, but the warmer the blanket, the more desolate she appeared.

It stood out starkly from the lively atmosphere around it.

"Grandma." Hermione spoke much more readily the second time, as if the title wasn't so difficult to utter.

"Hmm!" Wenda replied.

"You're the headmistress of Durmstrang School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, aren't you?" Hermione said. "What kind of magic school is it? How is it different from Hogwarts?"

She started the conversation.

Wenda's gaze shifted from the Christmas tree to Hermione.

She knew what the little witch in front of her was up to.

There was a pause of about a few seconds.

For Hermione, it felt like centuries had passed before Vynda finally spoke: "Durmstrong has a castle, just like Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But it's not as big as Hogwarts Castle."

She began to speak slowly.

Hermione beckoned, and the other young wizards gathered around.

The person in front of me is the headmaster of a magic school!

To put it another way, it's like Dumbledore personally telling them about the appearance and history of Hogwarts—a novel experience that most people can't have.

"It has only four floors and can only be lit when a spell is cast. There is a vast area and magnificent scenery outside the castle. Behind the school is a high mountain lake where some dark, ghostly ships dock."

Students also go diving here in the summer.

She spoke slowly and gently, and at that moment, Wenda seemed like a real grandmother, telling her descendants this distant story in a gentle tone.

These stories interweave anecdotes from the castle's past with demonstrations of Durmstrang's powerful war magic.

Various sounds could be heard from the living room from time to time.

That was the sound of a war curse.

The exclamations of the young wizards added a rich, dazzling touch of fantasy to the manor.

"It's so lively."

At that moment, the tightly closed manor gates suddenly opened.

The whistling wind filled the living room.

Everyone's attention was instinctively drawn to it.

He was tall and thin, like Dumbledore, wearing a suit and a trench coat, with leather boots on his feet.

He had short, silver-white hair, handsome features, a clear profile, deep eyes, and a face that was both handsome and wicked.

Those heterochromatic eyes seemed to be able to see through people's hearts.

The storytelling stopped abruptly.

Everyone recognized the man's identity.

Gellert Grindelwald.

"Oh my God!" Ron exclaimed, sounding extremely excited.

"Harry, did you see that?"

"Although I wear glasses, my vision is normal," Harry said.

Legends about Grindelwald are widely circulated at Hogwarts.

Of course, the most pernicious influence came from his illicit affair with Headmaster Dumbledore.

Everyone loves that story.

Harry was also a senior member of Grindelwald's secret society.

"You're back." Wenda stood up and looked at the man with deep affection.

Grindelwald walked in with elegant and composed steps.

He exudes a unique confidence and strength that is captivating.

"Playing with moles isn't difficult, but it's very mentally taxing," he said casually, without sitting down on the sofa.

He conjured a wooden chair by the fire.

Then he leaned back lazily. "Communicating with a bunch of self-proclaimed smart idiots isn't a good job."

"So someone told me to take a break for a while."

"Dumbledore?" Wenda asked calmly.

(End of this chapter)