I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 417 Brain Occupation and an Unexpected Acquaintance

Everyone in the room was stunned.

A moment later, Hermione realized what she had just said.

Harry and Ginny covered their mouths and laughed.

Owen was quite surprised; Miss Granger was getting bolder and bolder.

"Spi, go back," he said.

I want this crazy little elf to leave this place.

Out of sight, out of mind makes many things easier.

And so—with one little sprite gone, the other one calmed down.

Dobby then went on to talk about his interesting experiences during this time, and the days he spent with actors and producers from various countries.

An American producer named Stewart seemed to take a special liking to him and even invited Dobby to their home in the United States.

That was a literary family, Tobe said.

He is known for his fantasy novels written in letters.

Their family has produced blockbuster books for generations, while the new generation of Stewarts has chosen to become an editor, specializing in writing screenplays for Hollywood.

Dobby seemed to get along very well with the man, as could be seen from his animated description.

On the other side—the scene had calmed down.

Irving didn't linger; his eyelids were trembling, and he was going back to his room to sleep.

Seeing this, Hermione quickly followed.

She still had that key in her pocket.

It needs to be returned to Irving.

However, just as Ginny had guessed, Owen didn't care about such things. After letting her accept them, he went to bed and fell asleep.

By the time the others regained consciousness, it was already afternoon.

The sky was dark; winter nights always seem to come especially quickly.

Fortunately, the snow stopped, and there weren't many dark clouds in the sky, so a little dim light still shone on the ground.

"Hey—Irving!"

When he appeared in the living room.

Harry immediately went to greet him happily.

Only he, Ginny, and Hermione remained in the manor.

How can two girls and him keep up with each other?

He wanted to play a few games of wizard chess. Hermione wasn't interested; she went to her study and did some writing and drawing, seemingly busy with something.

As for Ginny—she seems to be very talented; he's already lost seven games in one afternoon.

Actually, by the second game, he didn't want to play anymore.

But Ginny was in such high spirits that he couldn't say anything—seeing Irving now was like seeing a savior.

"Professor Dumbledore came by at noon, apparently looking for you, but you weren't awake. He left a letter for Hermione," Harry said, while secretly starting to put away the chess pieces.

He will never play chess with Ginny again!

"Looking for me?" Owen rubbed his eyes, yawned, and looked at the two with a swollen head.

"Here you go." At that moment, Hermione also heard Owen wake up.

She came out of the study.

Then he took out a letter from his pocket.

The four of them sat on the sofa.

Dobby had vanished without a trace. Irving didn't bother with him.

He took the letter from Hermione, tore it open, and took out the letter paper. It was familiar—the last stroke of each word had many circles. Hmm—this was Dumbledore's handwriting.

I glanced at it briefly.

"Oh! That's what happened!"

The letter was very brief, consisting of only two sentences.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked from the side.

"Regarding Occlumency," Owen handed her the letter. "Professor Dumbledore wants someone to teach Harry Occlumency. He asked if I'm proficient, and if not, he has someone else in mind."

"Occlumency?" Harry heard his own name. This wasn't the first time he'd heard this familiar spell from Owen. He'd said before that he needed to master it.

However, he still didn't understand what kind of magic it was.

"Occlumency is a spell that protects against external mental infiltration. It can seal the brain to resist magical invasion and influence," Hermione explained to Harry, holding the letter with a slight frown.

"Why did Professor Dumbledore make Harry learn this spell?" She looked at Owen in confusion. "As far as I know, it's an extremely obscure spell, and it's incredibly difficult to learn, even more difficult than the Patronus Charm."

Very few people in the entire magical world have mastered it.

“That’s right. It’s indeed very difficult.” Owen said, picking up a cup of hot coffee from the table beside him. After taking a sip to refresh himself, he continued, “Those who know this magic are undoubtedly among the most powerful wizards, like Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and my grandmother.”

Of course, there are many more, but Irving doesn't need to name them all, such as Snape, Barty Crouch Jr., Bellatrix Slestronch, Horace Slughorn, and so on.

"What about Harry?" Ginny and Hermione both looked puzzled, neither of them understanding the meaning behind Dumbledore's instruction.

“He understands.” Owen looked at Harry. “If you can see his memories, then he can see yours too. It’s easy. He just hasn’t realized it yet.”

Harry understood instantly.

It's Voldemort!

Professor Dumbledore was worried that Voldemort was spying on his memories!

"If you can't master this magic, it means that the whole truth and plan can't be told to you. Even the memories of him that you see may be fake, because he may have deliberately shown them to you, like bait for fishing."

"So, when we were in the illusionary realm, the question I asked you, you didn't tell me because you were afraid he would pry into my memories and learn the truth?" Harry countered.

"That's right." Irving nodded.

"Who are you talking about!" Ginny was impatient again. She was eager to know everything about Harry and didn't like people playing games with her.

"Voldemort," Owen said, a smile playing on his lips. "There's a subtle connection between Harry and Voldemort."

"He is a master of Legilimency. In fact, if any of you fell into Voldemort's hands, there would be no secrets for him. He could see through all your information, memories, and emotions at a glance."

"In fact, in peacetime, there is no need to master Occlumency, but now—many of our enemies can use mind control spells, so this magic has become a necessary skill to master, or at least a basic one. The most basic form of Occlumency involves clearing the mind and preventing outsiders from prying into it, while in advanced forms, the masters can even fabricate false memories and emotions, protecting only their own specific memories, using a mixture of truth and falsehood to lure the enemy elsewhere."

"Furthermore, this spell can also affect the effects of Truth Potion, making it extremely powerful."

Irving said a lot in one breath.

Of course, what he didn't say was that this spell could even block the whispers of the Outer Gods. He himself hadn't mastered it yet, and he had only grasped the basic form of the Occlumency spell, without going into depth.

Because Irving felt he didn't need it.

But now that I think about it—if he had been able to focus and practice this magic to Snape's level, perhaps those whispers in his head last year wouldn't have happened.

"Then you can?" Harry knew the necessity of mastering this magic; he didn't want to dream of Voldemort eating people again.

"I'm sorry," Owen said, setting down his empty coffee cup. "While I know many spells, Occlumency isn't my forte; I only have a very basic grasp of it. If I were to choose a teacher for you, there's no better option."

"Who?" Harry asked. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"How could that be?" Owen waved his hand. "The fact that he asked me to teach you means he simply doesn't have time to come in person."

“Snape,” he said bluntly, “Professor Snape is a renowned master of Occlumency, so powerful that even Voldemort or Dumbledore couldn’t glean any secrets from his mind. He is clearly more experienced.”

Harry opened his mouth in horror and stared at him blankly.

After a moment, he exclaimed in surprise, "Snape?"

Let Snape teach him magic himself!

For him, this was the cruelest punishment imaginable.

He quickly looked at Irving for help, "Is there no one else?"

"Yes—but they're all very busy. Professor Snape is the most suitable; he's a professor at Hogwarts, so naturally he'll have time to teach you magic," Owen said cruelly.

"But—but," Harry stammered.

Ginny, standing to the side, also looked worried.

She wasn't sure what Owen meant by the "connection" between Harry and Voldemort, but since Harry hadn't objected, there was naturally a need for him to learn this magic.

But she also knew that Snape and Harry's relationship was like oil and water, especially in the second semester of their third year when Sirius Black served as the Dark Arts Professor for a period of time, and their hostile relationship affected Harry.

Snape became even worse.

This year, it was only because there was an even more detestable Umbridge that Snape's wickedness wasn't as obvious, but if Harry were alone with him in a room...

God knows what will happen.

They'll probably start fighting right away?

Harry fell silent. Ginny couldn't help him much at this point, so she could only pat him on the shoulder in a comforting manner.

After a long while—as if resigned to his fate—he lay back and slumped onto the sofa.

"If I get into a fight with Snape, you have to come and help me," Harry said suddenly and calmly.

"Oh? It seems you're sure?" Irving was somewhat surprised.

Harry isn't one to back down easily.

His acceptance of this matter undoubtedly signifies his growth.

He finally put his personal grudges aside for the greater good.

"I definitely won't help. But I can cheer you on from the sidelines!" he said with a smile.

"Because I don't want to see him either!"

Upon hearing this, Harry's face darkened even further.

Perhaps it was because they knew they would have a terrible period after Christmas.

In the days that followed.

Harry started playing around like crazy.

He didn't care who was with him; his footprints were left all over Paris.

Meanwhile, Owen and Hermione went to the alchemist Nicolas Flamel's safe house to visit him.

When they met again—the already aged alchemist looked even worse; he resembled charcoal after a fire had burned, which would break at the slightest touch or turn into black dust.

Although Nick seemed to be in good spirits, which might be related to the final elixir of immortality, both he and Hermione knew that he probably wouldn't live to see the new millennium.

In addition, Irving also met an acquaintance—no—perhaps that thing couldn’t even be called a person.

In the dimly lit room, the fire crackled and burned, casting a long shadow on the ground. The owner of the shadow stood beside the fire.

She was wearing a black, form-fitting robe and a matching black headscarf.

I heard a noise behind me.

The man turned his head sharply, his face obscured by the updraft from the fire. His face was revealed to be deathly pale, ashen, and his eyes had no pupils.

She just stared blankly at the person who came in.

He looked like a dead body.

Nagini!

Nagini in human form!

"I've done my best," Nick said sadly, lying on the chair.

His cloudy eyes were filled with the light of humanity, a reluctance to let go of a vibrant life.

Nagini like this! It's fair to say that the part of her soul that is human has died.

The snake part was probably driven out by Nick.

This has resulted in her now resembling Neville's parents, driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse; they still move, still act like machines, but without consciousness, without self—just a living lump of flesh.

Irving has a way of infusing this body with a new soul—but—that soul might be someone else, or perhaps the snake itself.

Nagini is probably—indeed—already dead.

"It's enough that I can be buried in human form," Owen murmured.

There's no need to torture her or those who still care about her anymore—she's like a living corpse.

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.

When I get back, I'll ask Aberforth where he buried his son Credence. Let them be buried together; a lonely soul needs a companion.

"Are you going to kill her?"

After the initial shock, and as Owen slowly recounted Nagini's background, Hermione couldn't control herself—her eyes welled up with tears.

Gasping for breath, she exhaled heavily, her tear-filled eyes staring at Owen as she asked.

"Rather than living without dignity, which I would even say is an insult to her body, since her soul is long gone, burying her is the greatest respect we can show."

Irving said calmly.

If he were Nagini, upon learning that decades later, someone was still obsessively studying his body, he would feel absolutely nothing but anger.

What can one gain from living like this, besides enduring humiliation?

"That's now!" Hermione persisted. "Two years ago, you were helpless against Neville's parents, but now—the Lombards are awake!"

Perhaps it was the recent resurgence of Neville's parents that gave Hermione confidence, because now Nagini is behaving no differently than the Lombards before.

"That's different!" Irving said.

"What's the difference?" the little witch insisted. "Just because there's no way now doesn't mean there won't be in the future. The future holds infinite possibilities."

"Miss Granger, not all problems have solutions; sometimes we have to learn to let go."

"If we can't figure out the solution, it's just because we haven't tried hard enough!" Hermione retorted almost immediately. "If it doesn't work the first time, we'll try again. If it doesn't work the second time, we'll try three times, ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times."

"We will succeed!"

(End of this chapter)