I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 451 Weapon—It is Oblivion

Controlling the Camelot is by no means easy.

This kind of magical tool cannot be controlled simply by waving a wand.

Although it doesn't have the complex operating platform, dozens or hundreds of buttons, and require several people to operate it together like a Muggle ship.

The magic is simpler, but it is, after all, Merlin's work, and the techniques used belong to early magic—which is still somewhat different from modern spells.

Operating it requires a complex set of ancient runic commands called a "program".

The wizards in the command room who were in charge of operating the ship had forgotten the ancient runic script combinations.

They were at a loss, their palms were sweating, and their eyes were filled with terror.

Now—they've even forgotten the simplest thing: how to open or close the dome.

Calm down—calm down.

The group took deep breaths. Just a few hours ago, they had closed the dome; it was impossible for them to forget it so quickly.

It must be because I was too nervous and too tired.

Sirius frowned.

He was also a little tired, but this fatigue had not yet overwhelmed him.

"Don't you have an instruction manual?" he asked.

"Oh—yes! The user manual!" Several technicians suddenly woke up as if from a dream, then got up and began searching for the user manual in the surrounding cabinets.

Soon—they pulled out a book with a massive seven-inch dragon-skin cover.

Overjoyed, the group immediately began searching for the answer.

Then came a long half hour.

During this time, several wizards, including Basil and Mr. Winston, came to the command room. Some others did not arrive; they were too tired and said they needed to rest for a few more hours.

Sirius ignored them. There was nothing for them to do right now. Finding a way out required brains, not brute force.

Having more people doesn't necessarily make a difference.

"What's wrong with you?"

While the technicians were relearning how to operate the giant ship, the group gathered together for a frantic brainstorming session.

From the memories of the townspeople and the bishop, Sirius and the others learned the cause of their deaths.

Those people all died in a shipwreck.

Everyone's memories were perfectly complete, as if they had been fabricated.

That's why the bishop so confidently claimed they were dead.

Before this, every resident who arrived here would try every means to get out, but as time goes by, years, decades, and centuries, the obsession that supports people's hearts will eventually disappear, people will become more and more numb, and eventually they will have to face the fact that they are dead.

Sirius Black doesn't want to stay here for decades.

He had just promised James he would take care of Harry.

"It's nothing," Mr. Basil replied listlessly. "I'm just a little mentally exhausted and can't seem to muster any energy."

"I guess I've just been too tired these past few days!"

"tired?"

Seeing Mr. Basil and Mr. Winston yawning repeatedly, Sirius felt a sense of foreboding.

Then his gaze quickly swept over the others.

Most of the people present looked like they hadn't slept for three days and three nights, with droopy eyelids and dull eyes, as if they were about to fall asleep at any moment.

The three technicians kept falling asleep, only to be woken up by the others. This back and forth—the learning progress was extremely slow—Sirius even felt that they might be forgetting things faster than they were learning them.

???

forget???

Sirius's pupils contracted as he suddenly realized something.

Then, his serious gaze fell on Mr. Basil and Mr. Winston.

"Have you forgotten something?"

"Forgot?" Mr. Basil paused, then thought for a moment before replying, "No!"

"What about you? What have you forgotten?" He looked at Winston again.

“Me?” Winston shook his head. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”

"Really?" Sirius Black sensed something was wrong. "Where is your Miss Zhang?"

"Miss Zhang?"

"Zhang Xiaolin—" Sirius Black had a hard time pronouncing the name.

"Zhang?" Mr. Basil and Mr. Winston exchanged a glance, then frowned immediately. After a long while—suddenly—their brows relaxed, and their eyes flashed with an urgent light. "That's right, where's Lynn? What happened to me? How could I forget her!"

Mr. Basil asked anxiously, "Where is she? Has she come back?"

"Her?" Sirius's gaze turned grave, then he roared, a hint of terror in his voice, "Put her matter aside for now. Now—get everyone on board up immediately and assemble in the conference room!"

Mr. Basil and Mr. Winston were forcefully removed by Sirius Black, who then ordered the three technicians to immediately open the dome of the Camelot.

As he watched the departing figures, he seemed to see some immense terror, panting heavily.

They—they are forgetting!

What is it about this small island that makes them gradually forget things?

Sirius was greatly shocked.

In all his years of wits and courage fighting against dark wizards, he had never seen such a crisis.

Could someone on the island have cast a spell of oblivion on them?

Sirius immediately gathered his thoughts and began to delve into his memories.

His memory is complete; no part of it has suddenly disappeared or appeared abruptly.

Moreover—although his Occlumency was not as good as Snape's, as members of the Order of the Phoenix, they all basically mastered the spell, so it was impossible for anyone to tamper with his memories without him noticing.

Even Voldemort couldn't do that.

So—how did their enemies cast the spell?

Could it be poisoning?

However, they did not drink any water from the town or eat any food.

Unless the poison is already in the air and can cause poisoning through inhalation.

This is too absurd. Although there are indeed poisons in the magical world that can do this, such as some magical spores, their effect is not to make people forget, but to suffocate and die. Moreover, these airborne spores can only be effective in a closed environment. This island is surrounded by sea breezes, so even if there were magical spores, they would have been blown away long ago.

Sirius kept speculating about all sorts of possibilities.

But he rejected every possibility as soon as it appeared.

At this moment, an unprecedented terror and calamity enveloped him.

He looked down at his own reflection on the gilded floor beneath his feet. At that moment, he suddenly felt that the shadow was somewhat unfamiliar—as if he were looking at another person.

------

In the conference room.

Everyone's face bore an indelible weariness.

Even after Mr. Winston took out several bottles of energy drinks from his bag, which was enchanted with the Infinite Stretching Charm, and everyone shared them, the feeling of fatigue still lingered.

The potion did invigorate them, but the mental exhaustion remained. Their bodies seemed to belong to someone else, vibrantly housing an aged soul.

"We have suffered an unprecedented attack." Sirius's voice was unusually serious. "The enemy's attack methods are unknown, but we have indeed been hit. Our memories are fading; we are forgetting our comrades, forgetting how to operate the ship, and perhaps even forgetting how to cast spells in the future."

"As time goes by, I don't know if this 'illness' will worsen. Maybe it will subside after a while, or maybe in the end we will forget how to eat, drink, and breathe. At that time, we will truly die."

A chill ran through everyone, but not everyone was drowsy. Among the dozens of people present, there were two or three who remained unharmed.

They were looking at everyone with confused expressions.

"But we are wizards," Sirius said. "We can extract important memories and then watch them repeatedly every day to alleviate the symptoms."

"Why are they alright?" Winston asked, pointing to the wizards who looked perfectly normal and had no idea what was going on.

"I don't know," Sirius said. "I just asked them. On the ship—they were with Biske and the others, and they didn't do anything different from others. Maybe—maybe it's a disease, but they just haven't been infected yet?"

Bisk was one of the technicians in the command room, and he and the other technicians had all developed severe amnesia. The wizards who were still alive and kicking had been with them before, so it was illogical that some of them were affected while others were not.

"We need time to observe," Winston nodded. "Your guess makes some sense."

Perhaps it really is some kind of disease?

"We all need a full medical checkup," he added, "and as soon as possible!"

Perhaps after a while, they won't understand what all those bottles, jars, crucibles, and stirring rods in the therapist's room are for.

Winston led the affected wizard to the treatment room. There were healers on the ship, and Winston himself had extensive experience in this area, making him a sort of healer.

Mr. Basil couldn't stay on the ship for another second; he had to go find Miss Zhang.

He wasn't worried about the girl's safety; her strength was unmatched even in the entire wizarding world. He was just worried that Miss Zhang had also been affected, and perhaps she hadn't returned yet because she had forgotten where the Camelot was.

On the ship—an unaffected wizard offered him a ride, but Mr. Basil firmly refused, saying he could not drag anyone else down with him.

He then disappeared from the spot on his own.

Nobody knows what will happen if they go back to the island; maybe they'll just turn into idiots?

------

"I know this won't be easy!"

In the town, some residents were gathered in the woods on the east side.

"Every life, every death, is unavoidable." The bishop stood before a crowd, with a deep pit at his feet containing a person.

The residents stood around the pit, their heads bowed.

"But this is a path we had to take; she is finally free." The bishop crossed his arms over his chest. "May Ionia bless her, may she rest in peace."

After reciting the last prayer, the surrounding residents scooped up loose soil and threw it into the pit.

More people are repeating this action.

Soon the person standing in the ground was completely buried.

Just after she was completely covered by the blanket of earth, an inconspicuous sprout stretched out from under the loose soil. It twisted its waist and then grew wildly. In the blink of an eye, it grew into a towering tree, a willow-like tree species that was most common on the island.

A flower grows from a branch of the thickest and tallest tree trunk.

A white-pink flower with bluish-white stamens, radiating a pale purple glow.

A resident stepped forward, picked the blooming flower with both hands, then turned and walked out of the woods, along the cobblestone path, toward the distant coast.

The other townspeople followed behind him.

They sang—a melody that was somewhat melancholic, somewhat gentle, and somewhat graceful, carried by the golden waves of wheat swaying in the fields to the distant horizon.

Are you on your way to Scarborough Fair?

— Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

—Please give my regards to a girl there.

—She used to be my lover.

—Please have her make me a fine linen shirt.

— Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

—No need to sew or thread on top.

—She will be my true love.

The procession singing elegiac songs did not show much sadness.

They were more like going to a banquet.

We bid farewell to a princess as she gets married.

Golden rays of light rose from the sea, reflecting off the clouds and illuminating everyone's faces, bathing them in golden light.

The singing never stopped along the way.

A gentle breeze caressed my face, and the singing was like beautiful silk drifting across the sky.

Finally, they reached the shore.

The man holding the Blooming Spirit Flower stopped a few steps away.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he walked towards the sea.

Place the Spirit Blossom Flower gently on the sea like a paper boat.

The sea surged and rippled, the flowers swayed, and the ship slowly sailed into the distance.

"O dead!"

The bishop stood on the shore, murmuring, "Returning home."

The song echoed far and wide once again.

In the end, it startled one person.

It was Mr. Basil, who charged out of the woods like an angry lion, wand in hand.

"What did you do!"

"What did you do?!"

He was covered in mud, looking as if he had just dug up someone's grave.

His voice was filled with resentment and sorrow.

He held the wand in his right hand and punched the bishop hard in the face with his left.

The immense force slammed the bishop directly into the sea.

With a "bang," a white splash of water rose up.

Mr. Basil discovered this strange group as soon as he entered the town.

That immediately caught his attention.

Following the trail in reverse, he quickly found the new, deep pit in the woods, and the tree there.

What lies buried under the tree is the skeleton of a woman. She is rotting, her face is no longer recognizable, and she is like a melting candle, no longer recognizable as a human.

"Buzz!"

Upon witnessing this scene, Mr. Basil felt his vision suddenly go black, as if he had been struck by an invisible force.

He staggered a few steps, almost losing his balance, and an indescribable fear welled up inside him.

(End of this chapter)