I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 472 So Who Will Die?

Slughorn's expression grew increasingly panicked.

His eyes darted away, as if he wanted to leave.

However, as he turned around, Koyatl grabbed his hand.

Slughorn was startled; he hadn't expected this pretty young girl to be so bold.

"Perhaps you have no idea what the Imposters and the Purifiers are up to, or what they've done in Port Isabella."

Before Koyatl could finish speaking, Slughorn interrupted her. The old wizard, startled, forced a smile and said, "Child, I know. I know. Precisely because I know, therefore..."

"What are you worried about? Is it Voldemort's revenge?" Harry could tell that the old wizard in front of him was hiding a huge secret. He spoke frankly.

"No—" Slughorn shook his head, his face contorted in distress.

"Sir, when my mother came to you, she must have already betrayed the Saints. Two of the Saints were traitors: one was a homunculus being hunted by goblins and the Purifiers, and the other was a Death Eater."

"How did they end up together?" Owen continued, elaborating on Koyatl's words. "Sir, what do you know? What questions do they want to ask you?"

"You're looking for me. It's just about some potions." Slughorn still didn't answer.

He broke free from Koyatl's grasp and walked out of the room.

His back view looked somewhat flustered.

"He's definitely hiding something from us, something even Headmaster Dumbledore doesn't know," Hermione said seriously.

"It's obvious he was terrified and didn't know what had happened back then," Koyatl said.

"Owen, perhaps you could write to Aunt Roy and ask her? She was with your mother at the time."

Hermione looked at the teenage girl standing next to Gabriel in the photo, Roy Sylph.

“I don’t think Auntie knows much about this,” Irving shook his head. “Didn’t you notice? Everyone in this photo is dead. We don’t know McCowan Hunter, but I don’t think he’s very likely still alive.”

Aunt Roy was young at the time; how could my mother have let her participate in anything dangerous or adventurous?

Irving's statement was not a wild guess; in fact, all three people in the photo had silver hair.

Wizards who came into contact with ancient magic almost always died young, so it's highly unlikely that McCowan Hunter would still be alive today.

This power is more of a curse than a benevolent force.

Even among all the successors, after Merlin, only Dean Bridged lived past the age of thirty.

What is this if not a curse?

Her mother possessed ancient magic and had worked with her grandmother to develop the Brazilian Divine Tower; she couldn't possibly be unaware of the dangers of this power.

Therefore, she would never allow Aunt Roy to get involved.

Upon hearing what Irving said, everyone nodded in agreement.

This makes perfect sense.

Hermione thought for a moment. If it were a matter concerning the Outer Gods, she would handle it herself and wouldn't involve the members of DA.

"If you ask me, why don't we be more assertive?" Ron suggested, offering a bad idea.

He looked around, and Koyatl nodded.

Hermione glared at him fiercely.

"We've only confirmed that Slughorn is hiding a secret, but we don't know what it is, or whether it's related to the Outer Gods. Who can guarantee that? How can we force it?"

At that moment, Dumbledore walked into the room.

He naturally heard all the conversations that took place inside.

"Alright, calm down, children," said Dumbledore. "I never imagined Slughorn had other secrets hidden in his heart."

"The two things can be combined into one," he murmured.

"Professor." The young wizards stepped forward.

"It seems this trip won't go too smoothly," Dumbledore said. "Well then, we should get out of here."

"Professor, are we not going to continue inviting him to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Everyone has their own ambitions, and we can't force them. But even if he doesn't join Hogwarts, I have other options."

With that, he led the young wizards out of the room and into the living room.

"Are you leaving?" Slughorn asked, snapping out of his daze in the living room.

"Yes, I can see that the outcome is already decided. I haven't been able to convince you to go back to Hogwarts."

"Hmm, a defeat?" Slughorn looked uneasy, fiddling with his two chubby thumbs as he anxiously watched Dumbledore and the young wizards around him.

"Alas, I am sorry you will not accept this job, Horace," said Dumbledore, making a farewell gesture with his unspelled hand. "Hogwarts would be delighted if you could return. You see, we have greatly enhanced security measures this year, and you are welcome to come and visit anytime you wish."

"Okay, no problem. I... well, you're too kind. I already said..."

"Then goodbye," said Dumbledore.

"Goodbye, sir," Hermione said.

"Goodbye," Harry waved.

"Goodbye." The other young wizards also waved to Slughorn, who was sweating profusely.

They walked out of the garden path, and the garden gate closed automatically behind them.

We walked onto the path leading down the mountain.

A quiet village lies nearby.

"Do you think he came into contact with the Outer Gods?" Dumbledore suddenly asked.

Irving held his breath and pondered for a moment before replying, "I have been in contact with him, which is why he reacted so strongly."

Moreover—I think this matter might be related to Zhang Xiaolin.

"That's possible." Dumbledore nodded. "He was curious about that power because he saw or knew about the supernatural abilities of Miss Zhang's mother."

Later, if anyone sought him out or displayed that power, as a potions master, he would certainly not refuse their request so that he could acquire that power for his research.

"Yes," Owen said. "I told him that the wizards in the photo were all dead, and he must have known that, which is why he was so secretive and unwilling to tell us the details."

"That's normal. Horace enjoys material pleasures and likes to associate with famous, successful, and powerful people, but he doesn't like to cause trouble. He's a very typical Slytherin," Dumbledore continued, almost revealing Owen's innermost thoughts. "He likes to stay behind the scenes and watch others be manipulated by him."

"Will Professor Dumbledore still join Hogwarts?" Owen looked up at Dumbledore.

"what you think?"

"Me? I think he definitely will." The boy gave a sly smile. "I'll subtly spread the word about his connection to the Outer Gods. With the Death Eaters' help, he'll have no choice but to side with us."

"That's not a good plan. If Tom had come in person, Horace might not have been able to escape. However—" Dumbledore's face lit up with a smile, "I think your plan might not be necessary."

"Hey—" Suddenly, a figure appeared in front of them in a phantom-like manner.

"Alright—alright!" it was Slughorn, shouting loudly, "You beat Albus, I agree!"

"I demand a raise!"

Dumbledore chuckled softly, then watched Slughorn Apparate away.

"Well done," said Dumbledore.

"It seems that the fear of Voldemort is no match for gathering a group of rising stars," Owen said bluntly.

"Yes, but I think it's mainly thanks to you, Irving."

"Me?" Owen was taken aback, then quickly realized, "You mean, he still harbors a strong desire for ancient magic?"

"Perhaps he had let it go before, but after seeing you, and after recalling the wizard in that photograph, he had other thoughts," Dumbledore said in a deep voice. "For a Potions Master, someone who has reached a certain end on the path of magic, the allure of ancient magic is still too great."

"It's huge. A few months ago, Professor Victor invented that alchemical potion, the one that can permanently enhance human functions. I think Professor Slughorn must know about it. That potion is probably more tempting to him than a goblin seeing a room full of Galleons."

"He might have been planning to go back to Hogwarts from the very beginning. He was just testing you, trying to get some more benefits?"

"That's possible," Dumbledore said with a smile. "But none of that matters now. Since we've both achieved our goals, and he didn't use any underhanded methods, he's been quite restrained."

To my surprise, Horace had come into contact with ancient magic decades ago, and Regulus was among them, yet I was completely unaware of it.

"You were busy dealing with Voldemort at that time!" Owen said.

Suddenly, the old principal fell silent.

His expression changed from gentle to serious.

Dumbledore always made a mistake: when his attention was focused on one person, he would intentionally or unintentionally neglect even those closest to him.

At this moment, he was once again immersed in his past mistakes.

—If he had noticed Regulus's or Horace's abnormality back then, perhaps many things could have been undone. He could have also known about the Outer Gods in advance and resolved the matter during Voldemort's ten-year hiatus.

As time has dragged on, more and more difficulties have arisen, and even the greatest wizards are feeling exhausted.

"Irving, about Australia"

The old professor suddenly spoke in a low voice, so soft that only those nearby could hear him. "The Master and I talked a lot. Miss Zhang also told me in great detail what happened in the Coffin of Consciousness."

A trace of sadness slipped into his eyes.

Upon hearing Dumbledore's words, Owen was quite surprised, not expecting that the old headmaster had communicated with the Imperial Academy in Chang'an in such a short time.

Could it be that he just came back from the Far East?

However, Irving smiled, a smile curving his lips.

He spoke in a similarly soft voice, with a hint of bewilderment and emptiness, "Sometimes, Professor."

"Sometimes, certain characters have to die in order to highlight the meaning of our lives as living beings."

"Then who will die?"

The two wizards, one old and one young, exchanged a glance and looked at each other.

Dumbledore's crescent-shaped spectacles, like the bright moon, emitted a cool yet gentle light.

It draped the boy in front of it in a layer of silver frost.

It looked like a corpse covered in snow.

Irving opened his mouth, sunlight shining on his silver hair, the reflected light carrying an astonishing clarity and coldness.

They understood each other perfectly.

Further words are useless.

But he still spoke up, saying that the rose proved itself to be the only one in the entire universe, and would never wither.

"Voldemort—" Owen said.

"I never doubted his failure." Dumbledore continued to stare at him. He already knew the correct answer in his heart.

"You are a fine boy, a brave, brave man." Dumbledore reached out and patted Owen on the shoulder.

"Hold on to my arm."

"Come on," he said.

The boy reached out his hand, and Dumbledore looked at the other young wizards, who took turns holding hands. Then the professor Apparated.

In the blink of an eye, they appeared on a country road.

The crooked yet familiar silhouette in front of me is the humble dwelling.

"How did we end up back at the Burrow?" Ginny asked in surprise. "Weren't we supposed to be going to Blake's old house?"

"Rufus's request," Dumbledore explained. "He wants to keep track of Harry's whereabouts at all times; he seems to want to use Harry against him."

"Rufus Scrimgeour?"

"He wants to use Harry as bait?" Ron said, displeased.

"The Burrow is protected by the most stringent security measures the Ministry of Magic can provide," Dumbledore said. "These measures may cause some inconvenience for Arthur and Molly, for example, all their mail will be subject to censorship."

"Harry, I want you to carry the Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from now on, even at Hogwarts. Just in case, understand?"

Harry nodded.

"There's one more thing," the professor added. "Your OWL results will be released soon, and I hope you'll all take Potions class, okay?"

"No problem, Professor," Harry said, "if my grades are good enough for the advanced class."

"I think that's fine," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Well, there's still half the summer vacation left to enjoy. We can't keep spending it all in misery. You don't need to stay in the Burrow all the time. I think Owen will definitely have a way. Of course, I'm not encouraging you to run around everywhere. Remember to keep to your limits."

After saying that, Dumbledore waved his hand at them.

It then vanished from the spot.

The group exchanged glances and then walked toward the humble dwelling.

Mrs. Weasley, dressed in an old green robe, had already noticed them.

She was bringing back some apples from the hunting grounds on the hill behind the humble dwelling.

That was the Weasley family's paddock, which contained a large orchard, big enough for the children to play a Quidditch match.

"Oh, welcome." Mrs. Weasley placed the basket she was carrying by the window.

"I thought you wouldn't be able to come until tonight."

"Come in quickly. Or go to the garden in the backyard," she warmly invited the young wizards.

He hugged every child.

When she looked at Irving, she muttered, "How come you're so beautiful again?"

This made him somewhat embarrassed.

The group sat down in the garden in the backyard.

This is a large, overgrown garden with a large, green pond teeming with frogs.

The garden was inhabited by a large number of goblins, so the Weasleys had to regularly remove them and throw them outside the hedge.

However, the goblins would always sneak back because Arthur Weasley was too lenient with them and found them amusing.

None of the young wizards wanted to enter the room; they had been "imprisoned" for too long.

Sitting on a wooden chair in the garden, watching the goblins that occasionally pop out of the ground, then snapping his fingers and tossing them away.

The sunlight streaming in added a unique charm.

A moment later, Mrs. Weasley came in carrying a fruit basket filled with apples she had just washed.

"So, you convinced Professor Horace Slughorn to accept the job?"

"Well, he has no reason to refuse," Irving said.

"He used to teach Arthur and me," Mrs. Weasley said. "He's been at Hogwarts for many years, I think around the same time as Dumbledore. So, do you like him?"

"I don't like him that much. I feel like he's indifferent to less gifted wizards. Just look at his photo wall. I prefer Professor McGonagall because she treats everyone equally." Hermione hesitated for a moment before speaking her mind.

"He seems a bit timid," Harry said.

"A bit greasy. Like most of the officials in the Ministry of Magic," Ron said.

"I heard of this professor when I was in Iphamoni. If we're just comparing academic achievements, he is indeed very talented, and he has many students and former associates," Koyatl said.

"So-so," Ginny replied.

"Yes, I understand." Mrs. Weasley nodded knowingly. "Arthur and I don't really like him. His dichotomy towards students is too stark: one group is those he likes or those he thinks have a bright future, and the other is those he thinks have a bleak future or are hopeless. He has a private club called the Slug Club, which he invites only the gifted to join and gives extra lessons to the wizards he considers ambitious and talented. But he never spends much time on Arthur; he seems to think Arthur has no ambition."

"However, it is undeniable that Slughorn undoubtedly has a keen eye for talent. In the more than fifty years since the club was founded, countless outstanding wizards and witches have emerged from the students he personally selected, leaving their mark on history, from Quidditch, politics, business and journalism."

However—he misjudged Arthur at least.

"Oh, Mom, you're talking so confidently, as if you were once a member of that slug club." Ron quickly shoved a bright red apple into the hand of the girl next to him.

Then he took another one for himself, took a bite, and said.

"Hmph!" Mrs. Weasley said, somewhat displeased. She glared at her son. "Do you think your mother was born a housewife? I've earned eight Outstanding grades in the OWLs! When your grades come out, if you lose even one, I'll give you a good beating."

(End of this chapter)