I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 419 connects again, the North American incident.

In the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Umbridge had clearly lost interest in teaching the young wizards.

She simply gave each person a special piece of parchment and then had them copy the textbook.

There are no limits on the number of attempts or the time limit.

In her words, it was about copying it until you completely memorized it.

And that parchment.

Each time they fill in the ink, they dilute it all away, leaving the area blank again.

Owen certainly had ways to counter such a low-level magical item.

But—why?

Anyway, she didn't ask anything, and my buddy only wrote one word every ten minutes, spending all his time daydreaming.

When the bell rang to signal the end of get out of class, Umbridge left even more hastily than they did.

However, the young wizards didn't care about any of that. To them, as long as the woman didn't have a relapse, that was better than anything else.

In the afternoon, we had herbalism class, and Professor Sprout was as warm and gentle as ever.

She introduced the young wizards to a new variety from the Ming Dynasty, which she had further improved.

This amazing plant is called Qu Yi Cao (屈轶草).

She doesn't know what the purpose of this grass is yet, but its stems and leaves wiggle when someone passes by, which is quite interesting. Professor Sprout asked each of them to grow one so they could use it as decoration in their dorm rooms.

So when class ended, each little wizard was carrying a flowerpot in their hand.

Saturdays and Sundays are normal holidays.

Although they had only attended classes for two days.

Owen spent all his free time on DA (Demonic Arts), and the young wizards were learning spells too slowly. Some of these slow learners just wouldn't pick it up no matter how you taught them; it was really frustrating.

Two frustrating days later.

A new week has begun.

After the magical creatures conservation class ended in the afternoon, everyone huddled together, wrapped in their clothes, and walked back to the castle with frozen steps.

Others might be worried because of the weather, but not Harry, who was with Ginny. He was troubled and looked very unwell. Tonight was his first lesson with Snape.

Looking at the castle, he suddenly had a desire to escape. He would go anywhere as long as he wasn't allowed to go to Snape's office!

Unfortunately, this did nothing to alleviate his ominous premonition, and even the attempts by Hermione and Ginny to comfort him were to no avail.

And so, after dinner...

Harry went to the basement with a heavy heart.

He paused outside the door for a moment, panting and trying to reassure himself.

Then he took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and went inside.

It was a dimly lit room with hundreds of glass bottles on the shelves, containing sticky plant and animal specimens floating in colorful solutions.

In the corner, a cabinet was filled with all sorts of precious medicinal herbs—Owen and Hermione had both frequented this place before.

Harry even knew there was a secret room in the office, and the way to open it was...

As he pondered, his attention was suddenly drawn to the desk in front of him. In the candlelight, there was a shallow stone basin engraved with mysterious symbols. Harry immediately recognized it as Dumbledore's Pensieve.

He was wondering what it was for when Snape's cold voice came from the shadows, startling him.

"Close the door, Potter."

Harry did as he was told, feeling horrified that he had locked himself away.

He turned around, and Snape had already walked into the light, silently pointing to the chair opposite the desk.

Harry went over and sat down, and Newnip sat down as well.

His cold, dark eyes stared unblinkingly at Harry, every line on his face etched with disgust.

"You know why you're here," he said softly. "The headmaster wants me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope you're a little smarter than you were in Potions class."

"Yes," Harry replied, not daring to say more.

In fact, he was quite talented in potions. Owen had said more than once that his mother and the Potter family had made outstanding achievements in potions. It was impossible for him to be completely ignorant about potions as Snape claimed.

He just didn't meet a good teacher.

Harry always thought so.

"This may not be an ordinary lesson, Potter," Snape's eyes narrowed sinisterly, "but I am still your teacher. You should always call me Mr. or Professor; that's the bare minimum of respect."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said casually.

"Very well." Snape looked at him coldly. "Perhaps the great saint Sanchez has already explained to you the function of this spell and why you want to learn it. So I don't want to hear any more of that stupid 'why' from you."

"I see."

"Hmph." Snape snorted coldly.

Then he pulled his wand from his robes, and Harry tensed up.

But he simply raised the tip of the cane to his temple and inserted it into the roots of his greasy hair.

When he removed the wand, a strand of silver, like thick spider silk, was attached to the tip.

He broke it off and let it fall gently into the meditation basin, where it spun into a silvery-white substance that was neither gas nor liquid.

Snape raised his wand to his temple twice more and added the silvery substance into the stone basin.

He didn't explain, but carefully carried the Pensieve to the shelf on the side.

Then he turned around and pointed his wand at Harry.

"Stand up and take out your wand, Potter."

Harry stood up nervously, and the two faced off across the table.

"You can disarm me with your wand, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of," Snape said.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, looking warily at Snape's wand.

"How rude, Potter! Is this how your scoundrel godfather taught you? Talking to a professor like that?"

"Sirius isn't a stray dog, he's a hero! He even has a Merlin First Class medal! And right now, my godfather is busy saving the world, Professor!" Harry said, somewhat annoyed. He could tolerate Snape's sarcasm, but he couldn't remain silent when it came to his friends or family.

Snape's face darkened further.

He understood the unspoken meaning in Harry's words.

Sirius Black is a hero, with the Order of Merlin, and is still saving the world, while his self-proclaimed nemesis has accomplished nothing.

"Saving the world?" Snape scoffed. "What a prestigious title. To consider dealing with a few mindless monsters an achievement? That honor is cheap indeed."

"Alright," he growled. "That's enough of this boring talk. I'm not you; I don't have that much free time."

Having said that, he raised his wand. "Now, enter your mind. I want to see your resistance. Prepare, Legilimency!"

Harry had seen Owen cast this spell before, but Snape's sudden attack gave him no time to prepare.

The next second, the scenery before Harry's eyes suddenly changed dramatically.

The office disappeared, and images flashed through his mind like a movie; he could no longer see anything around him.

When he was five years old, he watched Dudley riding on his new red bicycle and he was filled with envy.

When he was nine, he was chased up a tree by the guard dog Lippi, while the Dursleys laughed on the lawn, leaving him feeling lonely and helpless.

He saw himself stealing Dudley's chocolate and cutting his pants.

He deliberately smashed the window of Vernon's car.

He was wearing the Sorting Hat when he heard it say that he could go to Slytherin.

In his first year, he and a group of young wizards faced Professor Quirrell, who was controlled by Voldemort.

The epic battle under the dark moon in his second year was something he would never forget.

The third-year Hogsmeade battle.

Fourth year at the top of Azkaban Tower. Fleur's scream, Owen's Fire Shield Charm, the timely arrival of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's duel with Voldemort.

He saw the path to rebirth that he had glimpsed in the hazy illusion.

It was the young Voldemort's disrespectful words to them, and the fact that death had come so close to him.

He saw that Owen had told him about the Potter family's fortune a few days earlier, and that the most important thing about learning Occlumency was to empty your mind and not think about anything.

He heard a voice, "I don't know what you're afraid of either. Snape isn't going to eat you, he's someone who can leave you his inheritance after he dies, so what are you afraid of?"

Wait a minute—Harry suddenly forced himself to concentrate.

He understood that the spellcaster could only see those scenes if he could recall them, as long as he could stop.

He felt a sharp pain in his knee; Snape's office was back.

Harry found himself lying on the floor, his knee hitting the table leg hard.

He looked up at Snape and saw him rubbing his wrist, where there was a red, swollen welt, like a brand.

"Do you want to cast the Stinging Curse?" Snape asked coldly.

"No." Harry got up somewhat bewildered, then tried his best not to look Snape in the eye.

He was afraid that the man in front of him would see what Owen had said.

"I suppose so," Snape said dismissively. "You've let me in too deep. You've lost control."

"You saw everything?" Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to hear an answer.

"Partially," Snape uttered coldly. "I didn't expect Mr. Sanchez to be so interested in my property."

"Uh—" Suddenly, Harry became extremely embarrassed. He was both angry that Snape had seen his secret without any regard for his privacy and inexplicably felt a pang of sadness, as Harry had already learned about his fathers' feud from Owen.

An idea suddenly popped into his head.

Could it be that Snape really will leave his inheritance to him?

"What are you thinking, Potter!" Snape said sternly.

"No—there's no professor."

"Hmph—I think I'll find out," he said coldly. "Now discard all emotions, concentrate your mind, and restrain your memories and thoughts."

"Again, I'll count to three, two—Legitimacy!"

Harry felt as if someone was stirring his head with a stick.

The intense pain and helplessness overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

"A ridiculous idea." In the void, Snape's voice sounded particularly sinister. "You think I care about you?"

He said, "If it weren't for Dumbledore's orders, Potter, we would never have crossed paths."

Harry gritted his teeth, his eyes bulging upwards in a frenzy.

He might be being controlled.

But some force still sustained him, making him shout, "Me too!"

"Bang—" Harry returned to his office, soaking wet, and collapsed on the floor.

His heart was pounding wildly.

The complex emotions that had just arisen regarding Snape vanished without a trace in an instant.

"Clear your mind, Potter," Snape said in a cold voice. "Discard all emotions."

Harry tried to do so, but his anger toward Snape still surged through his veins like venom.

It's easier to lose a leg than to let go of anger.

"Get up!" Snape snapped. "Get up! You did nothing, you did nothing!"

"I tried," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"No, you didn't. I told you to let go of your feelings."

"Really? I find it hard to do now," he roared.

"Then you'll be easily manipulated by the Dark Lord," Snape said cruelly. "Proud, emotional fools who can't control their emotions, wallowing in terrible, sad memories, making themselves so easily agitated. In short, Potter, weaklings, they're no match for his magic. You are one of them; it'll be easy for him to invade your mind."

"I'm not weak," Harry said in a low voice, burning with rage and feeling he might punch Snape any minute now.

"That proves it's in control," Snape scolded. "Control your anger, control your mind, and we'll try again. Prepare for Legilimency!"

This time, Harry didn't feel any pain.

In fact, a white light suddenly appeared before his eyes.

Under Snape's resentful magic, his soul seemed to obey his will.

escape!

Yes, he escaped.

Everything in the office disappeared again.

He felt like he was dreaming; in a daze, Harry found himself in a dimly lit hall.

There were many people bound in front of him.

Those people were like lambs to the slaughter, convulsing from torture as they were imprisoned in iron cages.

Standing around him were many short wizards and many mysterious people draped in black robes.

"So, you've failed again," Harry said cruelly, with the corpses of several unfamiliar wizards lying at his feet.

It's obvious that these people have just died, and 'Harry' is probably extracting their souls or something.

That's why he came here.

Yes—Harry realized that he had once again entered Voldemort's mind.

"Master—I didn't expect this, I—I'll reorganize the manpower immediately." The man leading the group, the short wizard, looked even more tense, with a few beads of sweat on his cheeks.

"No need." Voldemort looked down at the man, raised his hand, and a blinding green light shot from the tip of his wand. "You don't need it!"

The surrounding wizards trembled and knelt down.

No one dared to look him in the eye again.

Voldemort, wand in hand, cast a spell on the poor wizards in the iron cage not far away.

"Capture the spirit, grasp the mind!"

next moment.

The wizard, struck by the spell, began to scream in agony.

This devastated Harry, because when the wizard, whose limbs and appearance were no longer visible, appeared in his mind, Harry realized that he recognized her.

Mandy Broglie.

The Ravenclaw witch who was his classmate.

She was known to him because of her constant disagreements with Luna. But she wasn't as evil as Slytherin; she was just—a little jealous.

He first saw Mandy Broheel's childhood, and then her time at Hogwarts.

Voldemort didn't seem to care about any of that.

He only becomes interested and begins to examine things inch by inch when Mandy Broher's memories of himself or Owen Hermione appear in them.

However, he didn't seem to find anything of value.

Ultimately, Voldemort was removed from her mind.

Harry could still hear the girl's screams echoing, which eventually turned into faint sobs, her vocal cords almost ruptured.

Her chest was convulsing with excruciating pain, making her appear both pitiful and eerie.

By this time, Voldemort had already moved on to the other iron cages.

With each Legilimency, Harry could only watch as he tormented his classmates time and time again.

Stephen Cohenford

Tracy Davis

Kevin Entwiss

Finally—Harry's mind could no longer withstand the intrusion of countless memories.

His will began to crumble.

In the end, he fainted.

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.

Irving and his team were unaware of what happened in Snape's office last night.

Early in the morning, he and Hannah Justin went to the auditorium for breakfast.

As Irving entered the foyer, he sensed that something was off about the atmosphere in the auditorium.

Many young wizards gathered together, heads bowed, discussing something.

Most people had unpleasant expressions on their faces.

It's like something big has happened.

"What's wrong?" He walked in quickly.

Among the crowd, Hermione was surrounded by the most junior wizards.

When everyone saw Irving, they all tactfully made way for him.

"Look at this!" Hermione exclaimed.

Then he handed over the newspaper he was holding.

She spread the newspaper on the table and pointed to the headline on the front page.

Owen and the other young wizards who arrived later all turned their attention to the newspaper.

They saw a city engulfed in flames.

No, it should be a small town.

All sorts of amazing creatures flew around in the sky.

The sky was filled with black smoke, something they were all too familiar with; this was how the Death Eaters' flying magic worked.

They are attacking this Muggle town.

They burned, killed, and looted everywhere.

Most worryingly, the photo appears to show a group of wizards surrounded by Death Eaters.

Because of the distance from which the camera was being filmed, they couldn't see the wizard's face clearly.

Below the photo is a bolded and widened title.

—The Death Eaters launched a major attack on Port Isabel.

—A large number of wizards are trapped in the United States.

"Oh my god!" Justin exclaimed, "Ernie is still in America!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Hannah said anxiously, "Look down!"

—According to an announcement yesterday by the International Federation of Wizards, the wizarding port town of Isabella, Texas, was suddenly attacked by a large number of Death Eaters a week ago.

— The Federation’s vice president, Babajid Akinbad, has confirmed that dozens of serious criminals have appeared in Isabella and several wizards have been killed; the exact number is still being tallied.

"It is deeply regrettable that we are caught in a continuation of the wizarding war that began more than a decade ago," said The Federation's Secretary General, Serphic Kamar. "Such a large-scale, lawless, indiscriminate killing is unprecedented in wizarding history. The Mysterio—no—Voldemort, yes—we must acknowledge that the most powerful dark wizard in history has risen once again, and in a bloody one!"

(End of this chapter)