I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 458 When I Died, the World Noticed Me

Stewart Island, a volcanic island in southern New Zealand.

Half Moon Harbour is the largest residential area on the island.

The wizard's town is also located near Half Moon Harbor.

In the local Maori language, the wizard city is called "Rakiyura," which means "vibrant sky."

The Ming Dynasty caravan chose to set up their tents on a hill.

This place was once a sacrificial site for ancient wizards, and in the distant past, the sacrificial site served more as a magical laboratory.

The hill, less than a dozen feet high, is scattered with ruins, and in the center is probably a temple.

The pyramid-shaped structure, with its cascading layers, was once filled with flowers brought from all over, creating a vibrant tapestry of colors and enchanting fragrances. Clusters of towers were adorned with silver and jade, and cool water flowed gently from the great temple, rushing along the elevated canals day and night.

Over the millennia, time has eroded the temple, leaving only its stone skeleton, and much of its former glory has faded into ruins. The remains that visitors see today have been restored by the New Zealand Ministry of Magic, and next to them stands a bulletin board depicting what archaeologists imagine the temple to look like in its original state.

In the imagination of archaeologists, ancient temples should have been built using square-cut granite blocks, rather than the rough stones scattered everywhere we see today.

Every corner should be meticulously crafted, with statues of various famous wizards outnumbering the trees on the hill. Now you might find some stones with some outlines in the surrounding embankments, the only legacy of that great and sublime era.

The tent has been pitched on the temple ruins for three days.

The International Wizarding Potions Masters Tournament has progressed through the preliminary rounds and entered the final sixteen.

Lily Evans.

James Porter.

Severus Snape.

All three of them advanced to the next round of the competition with excellent results.

However, the difficulty of the later matches will increase dramatically.

Potions that claim to be original simply by modifying a few previous recipes will no longer receive points.

Contestants must present entirely new potion recipes, unlike anything ever seen in the wizarding world, to earn points.

Of course—inventing a valuable potion recipe is extremely difficult.

The contestants' so-called inventions were mostly the prank products invented by George and Weasley.

But this is already excellent.

Great recipes are born from the seemingly useless, imaginative creations of young wizards. Those bursts of inspiration are like new kindling in a crucible, which may one day explode into fireworks that can illuminate the darkness.

Who can predict the future?

Among these young wizards, only fifteen or sixteen years old, perhaps a great potions master will emerge?

This is also the significance of holding the Masters Tournament.

Geniuses are like blocks of granite cut into squares; the great temples of ancient times were built by a group of geniuses.

Even after thousands of years, the remains still exist today, don't they?

"professor--"

Inside the tent, red-haired Lily ran down the stairs in a panic.

Her long hair flew in the air, and she was wearing a simple robe, without even having time to put on shoes.

She shouted from a great distance.

It was raining outside the tent.

The drizzle has been falling all day.

That's how it is on islands—the weather can suddenly turn sour.

After winning the second game yesterday, James wanted to invite Lily to soak in the hot springs, as he had heard there was a volcano there with abundant geothermal heat and the hot springs were very famous.

But Lily didn't even consider it for a moment and rejected it outright.

She refused for two reasons.

First, she wants to prepare for the upcoming competition.

Secondly, she disliked James Potter, who was impulsive, arrogant, and had the air of a spoiled rich kid.

She didn't like either Snape or James.

The heavy rain outside the tent muffled Lily's voice.

But Dumbledore, who was leisurely drinking tea with Shatty, still noticed Lily.

"Miss Evans, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore asked.

He and Xia Ti turned their heads at the same time.

The old headmaster looked at the red-haired girl.

The little ones' conflicts never stop, no matter where they go.

The children will be entering sixth grade after summer vacation.

It seems I need to pay a little more attention and help the kids resolve their conflicts. After all—Voldemort is indeed becoming increasingly insane. These children, even if they can't become an obstacle to resisting evil, can't become its lackeys either. They must unite.

"Professor—it's Diana! You'd better go see her!"

"Lily said in a panic."

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore frowned slightly, quickly got up, went up the stairs, and headed towards Diana's room.

The girl has never left the tent since she moved in.

Everyone knows she needs a peaceful life to heal her emotional and physical wounds.

The wizards deliberately gave her private space.

Now—a bad feeling began to stir in Dumbledore's heart.

He shouldn't leave that girl alone; she needs company—but Lily needs to prepare for the competition, and Professor Zhang Qingqiu needs to handle the caravan's affairs, so there really isn't enough manpower.

Professor Dumbledore and Professor Shatty walked up to the second floor together.

They arrived at Diana's door.

Looking up, he saw Sirius and Snape standing dumbfounded in front of the door, while James had just come out of the room, his face very pale and his hands stained with blood.

Professor Dumbledore, with a stern face, strode into the room.

The tents of the Imperial Academy in Chang'an, and all the decorations in the room, are filled with a profound and delicate oriental charm.

The room is elegantly and rusticly furnished, with a large mahogany bed in the center. The bed is covered with a brocade quilt embroidered with cloud and dragon and phoenix patterns, which is delicate and soft, like clouds. A landscape painting hangs above the bed, with smooth brushstrokes and profound artistic conception. On the table in the guest room is a celadon vase, with a warm and jade-like glaze, painted with blooming peonies.

The glass was made of crystal, the curtains of brocade, and the floor of black walnut. On the wall opposite the bed hung several landscape paintings and a pipa.

The incense burner was filled with sandalwood, and the faint fragrance mixed with the stench of blood wafted into Dumbledore's nostrils.

He saw a woman in the corner of the room, wearing a long robe, with blood seeping from beneath it.

The robe—the professor glanced at James beside him, who was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and his robe was clearly the same one the woman was wearing.

The old professor walked over.

He slowly lifted James's wizard robe.

The girl named Diana was wearing her tattered linen clothes, even though the new clothes Professor Zhang had prepared were right on the table, she didn't touch them at all.

She used the collar of her shirt to hold a small knife in place and cruelly slit her own throat.

The wound was gruesome, severing almost a third of the neck.

She blocked the spurting blood with her collar, the blood staining her fingers red. Blood seeped from between her fingers, staining her chest and abdomen, and flowing down her bare waist and abdomen.

Diana curled up—like a baby in its mother's womb.

With a peaceful smile on his face, and a sense of relief, he left this world forever.

Professor Xia Ti entered the room.

His aged eyes shifted from Diana to other parts of the room.

The bed was clean and tidy.

There wasn't a single trace of it having been used.

The table was spotless. The clothes that Professor Zhang Qingqiu had sent were also laid out untouched.

The desk in front of the window shows signs of having been used.

Because there were several sheets of parchment on the table.

The ink bottle was opened, and the quill pen must have been soaked in ink, but now—the ink bottle was closed again—the quill pen was rinsed clean, and even the chair was back in its original position, pressed against the edge of the table.

It seemed as if no one had ever lived in the room before.

"We made a wrong choice," Dumbledore said gravely, then slowly draped James's robes over Diana's now-cold body, and stood up with a somber expression.

"She committed suicide?" Sirius Black's face was filled with shock and confusion. Although they often fought at Hogwarts, this was the first time he had ever seen a dead person. He couldn't accept that a life that was so vibrant just a few days ago was gone.

Sirius couldn't help but look at James.

He also looked grave.

Professor Xia Ti stood at the table and murmured, "Mental breakdown is only human nature."

"Only the weak break down," Snape said dismissively, showing no regard for the poor Muggle girl.

After hearing Snape's words, Dumbledore turned and gave him a deep look. He didn't say anything immediately. He simply exhaled again, paused for a moment—and then spoke: "One day, you will understand that even the strongest person can be broken by life!"

"Life?"

Snape's expression changed several times. He wanted to talk about the tragedies that had happened to him, his mother, his father, his family, and that home by the stinking ditch.

His world was never filled with light.

Until—he looked at Lily, whose eyes were brimming with tears—that was his light.

"Some people have never seen the light." Behind Dumbledore's crescent-shaped spectacles, his deep blue eyes seemed to see right through people's hearts. He seemed to know what Snape was thinking, and then said in a complex and elusive tone, "When she first saw the light, she only saw it as fire, and she ran away in fear, afraid of burning herself."

Upon hearing this, Snape fell silent.

He finally began to ponder Dumbledore's words.

That Muggle woman—she might be even more miserable than I am, because he still has magic, Hogwarts, and—Lily.

Even if these things didn't bring him happiness, at least they brought him happiness at some point.

Seeing Snape deep in thought, Dumbledore fell silent.

He walked over to Professor Chalty and they began to look at the letters on the desk together.

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.

—Sorry, I made the floor dirty.

Choosing to die is not difficult.

Let me clarify, I know nothing about the death.

I asked myself, why are the stars that twinkle in the sky always so far away?

Perhaps only death can reach that vast galaxy!

It's late at night, and I'm getting ready to go to sleep.

Good night and best of luck!

Sincere greetings, yours truly—Diana.

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.

Professor Shatty's hands trembled slightly, as if bearing too much weight and sorrow. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his emotions, and then handed the letter to Dumbledore.

"What a kind child, so kind," Professor Xia Ti murmured unconsciously, her voice trembling with emotion.

"God is so unfair."

Dumbledore took the letter, his eyes filled with complex emotions. He unfolded the letter and carefully read the words Diana had left behind.

This letter—

A person who committed suicide.

A person who has suffered greatly.

A person who has seen all the darkness of human nature.

A person who has never encountered the light in his entire life.

With what passion did she write this letter?

She transformed the suffering she endured throughout her tormented life into a captivating beauty in just a few lines.

Pain can easily drive people to despair and madness, but the joy and emotion in confronting the world's pain with gentleness is indescribable.

As Professor Shatty said.

"Yes! What a wonderful child!"

Lily saw the letter.

She was standing right next to the two professors.

This deeply moved her.

It also made her feel a deep-seated disgust for the injustices of this world.

She looked at Snape, remembering the Death Eaters who had accompanied him.

I couldn't help but sigh – how many kind and gentle people in the world are still being oppressed by evil?

But he still stubbornly chose to go along with the wrongdoing, which puzzled her and made her indignant.

Then Lily's green eyes fell on James.

Looking at his short-sleeved shirt and his pensive face.

Suddenly she realized that this arrogant and domineering guy was not beyond redemption.

"Albus—look at this!"

Suddenly, the room temperature dropped a few degrees.

Professor Shatty coldly handed the remaining letters to Dumbledore.

The girl confessed at the end of her life.

The whole truth is contained in those few lines of text.

Dumbledore took the letter and began to read it quickly.

As his eyes moved slowly, his expression grew increasingly cold.

Until I read the very last word.

Albus Dumbledore, the legendary White Wizard known as the greatest in the world, forever calm and wise, had an expression as cold as ice.

"What do they take people for?!"

"Diana—a goddess!"

"Is this how they treat a goddess?"

Professor Shatty chimed in, "They're using people as magical materials!"

"Vampire—Vampire!"

"I thought it was just an adjective!"

"Someone will definitely slip up during the match," Dumbledore said.

"Too slow," Professor Shatty said. "Now that we all know the Selwyn family is problematic, let's eradicate them immediately!"

"Three days have passed. They must know Diana is in our hands. Perhaps they've already started moving her."

"Transfer?" Dumbledore said coldly. "No—they won't. They have no chance. Professor Horace Slughorn has been tracking them."

"He always prefers to associate with pure-blooded nobles and powerful people."

(End of this chapter)