I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 493 Emergency Meeting

"Can't I even tell the truth?" Irving said with a displeased look.

"What? Is self-sufficiency-based education the new trend in the magical world?"

"Hey Owen, can't you be a little more considerate of the occasion?" Harry nudged Owen's arm and whispered quickly.

"So—" Owen rolled his eyes at Harry and said, "You're admitting you'll come back to class if you get a different professor, right?"

"I didn't!" Harry immediately retorted.

"I think so!" Irving sneered. "You heartless ingrate! Humph!"

Harry's face flushed red and then turned pale.

Hermione quickly reassured him, "Don't fall for his tricks. He's just upset because he has classes while we don't."

As she spoke, the little witch realized that her explanation was getting more and more confusing. It was as if they were genuinely glad they hadn't chosen the Magical Creatures Protection class.

"Um—that—Hagrid, what's that?!"

Seeing that both of them were getting increasingly grim, Hermione quickly changed the subject.

She noticed a large bucket in the corner.

A strange creaking sound came from inside.

Upon closer inspection, she discovered that the bucket contained maggot-like creatures about a foot long, slimy, white, and wriggling incessantly.

Hermione put down the teacup, suppressing the churning in her stomach, and tried to smile, making her tone sound merely curious rather than disgusted.

"Damn, that's disgusting!" Irving said, frowning.

"Giant grubs," Hagrid said coldly, glaring at Owen.

"Will it turn into a fly?" Owen stood up and moved his stool to the other side.

He pulled Hermione along with him.

"My God—why would you keep such a thing as a pet?"

"No!" Hagrid said angrily. "I keep them to feed Aragog."

As he spoke, his expression suddenly darkened.

Tears welled up in her large eyes.

Without any warning, he suddenly burst into tears.

"Hagrid!" Hermione called out, jumping up and hurriedly going around the table—she deliberately went around it from the far end to avoid the barrel of giant grubs.

She put her arm around Hagrid's trembling shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"It's...it's it..." Hagrid sobbed, tears streaming from his small, dark eyes as he wiped his face with his apron. "It's...Aragok...I think it's dying...it's been sick all summer and hasn't gotten better...I don't know what to do if it...if it...we've been together for so long..."

Hermione patted Hagrid on the shoulder, completely at a loss for words.

Harry understood how she felt.

No one would consider a talking, eight-eyed giant spider a friend.

Only Hagrid in the whole world would do that.

"What can we do?" Hermione ignored Owen's sudden brightening eyes and focused on Hagrid.

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do, Hermione," Hagrid said, sobbing. "You know what? In the tribe, in the Aragog family... they've seen it sick, behaving very strangely... it's getting a little out of control..."

"When will he be able to control his own descendants?" Irving shrugged.

For several years, almost all the giant spiders have sided with Voldemort. The only ones left in the Forbidden Forest are the old, weak, sick, and disabled. Moreover, the remaining ones are not obedient beasts. They have only kept quiet for the last two years because of the power of the fear wizard.

This time, Hagrid did not refute.

Because that is indeed the case.

It's no secret that the eight-eyed giant spider turned towards Voldemort.

These animals can be found in many places.

"Aragog isn't dead yet!" Owen suddenly perked up. "Remember, when it's completely dead..."

"Owen!" Hermione snapped.

"Alright, alright. Fine! I'll shut up." The boy shrugged.

He muttered something under his breath at the last moment.

"That old guy's Venom could probably sell for several hundred gallons per gallon."

Although Irving's voice was very soft, Hagrid's room wasn't very big either.

The sound of his voice was heard by everyone else.

Harry and Ron both looked embarrassed.

Hermione, on the other hand, was somewhat angry.

As for Hagrid—what did he say?

He was somewhat discouraged.

He looked completely lost and dejected.

"Um, Hagrid, I think you should cheer up. After all, you're still a professor, and—" the girl frowned, suppressing a certain emotion welling up inside her, and continued, "and your friends certainly wouldn't want to see you like this."

"And what about Ms. Olem Maxim? How are things going between you two? I haven't heard you mention going to see her."

Suddenly, Hagrid's cabin grew even colder.

Owen quietly gave Hermione a thumbs up. Goodness, you've got a knack for picking at people's sore spots.

The fact that we haven't heard anything about their relationship for over a year speaks volumes, doesn't it?

If things were going really well between them and they were about to get married, wouldn't Hagrid be overjoyed to tell them?

Sure enough, as soon as Hermione finished speaking, Hagrid's large face immediately darkened even more.

"Oh no!" Hermione covered her forehead, instantly realizing she had said the wrong thing.

The giant, who had already stopped crying, had his eyes welling up with tears again.

"The situation in Europe is so chaotic right now, especially in Paris. Ms. Olem Maxim will definitely be focused on the war, and she won't have the time to talk about personal matters." She quickly made an excuse for Ms. Olem Maxim.

Although it is unclear exactly what happened between the two.

But there's definitely no problem with saying that.

Because all problems can be attributed to war.

Meanwhile, Owen whispered something to Harry.

"That eight-eyed giant spider is going to die," he said.

"What's wrong?" Harry glanced at him.

"The Spider King's venom is incredibly precious. Just mention it to Slughorn, and he'll definitely be interested," Owen said confidently. "You can use this information to get closer to him."

"?" Harry was taken aback.

He then said, "That is indeed a solution. But what exactly does Dumbledore want from Slughorn?"

To this day, Dumbledore has not told Harry what he needs.

He was simply asked to maintain a good relationship with Slughorn.

Owen glanced at Hermione, who was comforting Hagrid, then turned his head and whispered, "Slughorn used to be Tom's professor, his most prized student."

"Regarding Horcruxes, Dumbledore speculated that some of the knowledge might have been revealed to Tom by him."

"You don't think Voldemort was born with knowledge, do you? He learned and grew gradually."

"Hordeals!" Harry's eyes widened. This was the first time he'd heard of this. "Slughorn single-handedly created Voldemort?"

"No—" Owen shook his head, "It has an impact, but it's not decisive. Decades ago, there were books about Horcruxes in the Hogwarts library. You know, there are so many books in the castle, a person probably couldn't even read a tenth of them in a lifetime, and no one knows how much of the dark magic is in them."

"Voldemort found the information about Horcruxes in those books."

"Of course, you'll have to wait for Slughorn to tell you exactly what he said to Voldemort, but your burden has become even heavier now." Owen paused and continued, "You also need to find out the truth about Regulus's death. Slughorn definitely knows something, and that might be more important than Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"Why me?" Harry murmured blankly.

"You're the most suitable! Anyway, Slughorn doesn't talk to me anymore. Hermione's been affected too. Ron—he's not very talented in potions, even with that old textbook, he's just so-so. You're the most suitable one. Besides, this is a task Dumbledore gave you."

Owen certainly knew Dumbledore's purpose.

First, let's talk about the number of Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Although he had previously speculated that there were seven Horcruxes, there was no evidence, and Old Deng needed to verify it with Slughorn.

In addition, Voldemort's seven Horcruxes.

The diary, the locket, the gold cup, the crown, the mysterious statue, and Harry—six items have been found or destroyed.

But Gaunt's ring is missing.

The Riddle family's ancestral home was razed to the ground several years ago.

The ring was most likely taken by Voldemort at the time.

No one knows exactly where the Gaunt ring is now.

Dumbledore needs more memories about Voldemort to deduce his current location.

This is very important.

Owen even worried that Voldemort might have already discovered the secret of the Resurrection Stone.

The Resurrection Stone, one of the three sacred relics, is set in Gaunt's ring.

His grandfather, Grindelwald, had been searching for the Resurrection Stone all along.

It can be used to create a large army of corpses.

Voldemort, having never known love and never been loved by anyone, would not see anything even with the Resurrection Stone in his hands. In the original story, he never discovered the secret of the Resurrection Stone.

But after the Battle of Berlin, Owen speculated that he might have learned the secret of the Resurrection Stone.

"—Phew." Owen sighed softly.

Although the Resurrection Stone is a powerful tool for creating an army of Infernals, Infernals are just that—Infernals. Apart from causing some trouble, they don't have much effect on wizards. Even Muggle armies can easily kill these Infernals. If they don't suddenly erupt in a densely populated city like a city, they won't even suffer any casualties.

But trouble is trouble.

Who would want to fight a bunch of undead unless absolutely necessary?

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.

Hermione spent the rest of the time comforting Hagrid.

Harry then recounted what he saw and heard in the headmaster's office.

This included a memory of Voldemort that he saw in the Pensieve.

It concerns his mother and father.

Owen was quite surprised by what Harry said. He hadn't expected that Dumbledore would still have the mood and time to show Harry those things in such a chaotic situation.

Perhaps it was from this point that Dumbledore was already hinting at his connection to Voldemort and the fact that Harry had to face death again.

They talked for about an hour.

The rain outside had lessened a bit, and the group got up and left Hagrid's hut.

Barker was captured and taken back by Irving.

This dragon cannot be left unattended any longer.

In addition, Hagrid has been in a bad mood lately, so he may not have been taking good care of him.

He should take it back to the castle to raise it.

The path on the ridge was very muddy after the rain.

Every step they took stirred up mud, and no matter how careful they were, their trouser legs would still get some mud on them.

Just as they returned to the covered bridge, preparing to enter the castle.

A sudden figure burst out of thin air with a "poof".

"Young Master." A voice as loud as a bullfrog rang out.

The newcomer was a house-elf dressed in a dirty, tattered rag, almost completely naked.

Its head was bald, but its two large, bat-like ears were covered with a clump of white fur. Its eyes were bloodshot and hazy, and its fleshy nose was so big it looked like a pig's snout.

Irving knew who it was just by hearing the voice.

Kreacher, the little elf of the Black family.

Only it would still use the slave's term of address for his master, calling him "Young Master."

Other elves, such as Dobby or the elves in the Hogwarts kitchens, would only call him "sir."

"Kreacher?" Harry was quite surprised to see the little house-elf here.

What are you doing here?

"Someone is looking for you," Kreacher replied in a low voice. "It's you, Miss."

Upon hearing this, Irving frowned slightly.

"Time and place!"

"Now," Kreacher said, "in the Forbidden Forest." He pointed in a direction.

"Okay, I understand." Irving nodded.

The next second, Kreacher disappeared from the spot with a "poof".

"She wants to see you?" Hermione knew about the deal between Bella and Owen.

They also knew that their contact was Kreacher.

"It seems to be something very important." Owen nodded, then turned around and headed towards the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione immediately followed.

Harry and Ron were completely bewildered, their minds filled with questions. Without lingering, they followed.

"The war in Europe has been going on for months. It's normal for Voldemort to make new moves. But—"

"But she shouldn't have come to you herself!" Hermione voiced Owen's guess. "If it were just general information, Kreacher could have delivered it."

“That’s right.” Owen nodded. “A month ago, I tried to pass on a message to her, but she said the Death Eaters were in quite a mess lately and it wouldn’t be easy for her to contact me. Now…”

"Could it be another conspiracy?" Hermione asked immediately, as she had never trusted a dark wizard like Bella.

"Probably not," Owen said. "She's protected by the Fidelity Charm, and if she wanted to lure us out of the castle, she would have chosen a more distant meeting place, not the edge of the Forbidden Forest."

"Professor Dumbledore is in the castle, and the Aurors are eyeing it covetously. She wouldn't be that foolish."

"And—" the boy's lips curled into a cold smile, "where does she get the confidence that she can beat me?"

"Even if our dear senior Tom came in person, it would be impossible for him to defeat us silently."

"Hmm," Hermione pursed her lips, her face full of worry, but Owen was right. With their current strength, even Voldemort would not be able to defeat them easily.

The two fell silent.

Harry and Ron behind them didn't say a word.

Although they were surprised by the name Bella, they knew all their confusion would soon be resolved, so they weren't in a hurry to ask questions.

The four of them walked leisurely toward the edge of the forbidden forest.

The distant sky was covered with dark clouds, blocking out the last trace of sunlight, and the forest was shrouded in heavy shadows.

The damp ground reflected a faint light, like a still lake, without ripples, only bottomless darkness.

The leaves trembled in the cold wind, rustling as if whispering untold secrets. Raindrops slid off the leaves, hitting the ground and splashing up in bursts, their sound echoing sharply in the silent forest.

The air was filled with the smell of dampness and earth, mixed with an indescribable stuffiness, as if it were suffocating people's breathing.

Suddenly, the four of them stopped in their tracks.

Right in front of them, under a fir tree that would take four adults to encircle, Bellatrix Lestrange was leaning against the trunk, slumped on the ground.

Her black, gown-like dress was covered in mud.

Its face was an eerie blue-white, and one of its eyes had turned a cloudy, milky white.

She had one hand covering her neck and the other gripping her wand.

The exposed part of her chest was covered with acne-like wounds.

The mixture of green, yellow, and blue was filthy and disgusting.

His neck was throbbing violently.

Even if she tries to cover it with her hand, it's still clearly visible.

It seemed as if some creature was sucking her blood from beneath her skin.

Irving quickly stepped forward.

Under Bella's weak, cold, and sinister gaze, he removed her hands from her neck.

"Is this... a dead root?"

Irving asked, as if guessing.

Because what was under her skin looked like some kind of root, with countless blue threads spreading out in all directions of her body.

It was as if the roots were using her body as a warm bed, growing wildly.

"Large-up," Bella said weakly.

He managed to utter just two words before he ran out of energy to speak again.

Seeing this, Owen remained silent, took out his Phoenix Wand, aimed the tip at her neck, and gently slid it across her neck.

The already cracked skin split open again.

Then he stretched out his left hand, cut his index finger, and a drop of blood gushed out.

In a vision unseen by ordinary people, the drop of blood was accompanied by a terrifying outpouring of ancient magic.

Almost instantly, as if summoned, several roots sprouted from the roots under Bella's neck, trying to devour his blood.

Irving, of course, wouldn't let them succeed.

He slowly removed his fingers.

A little bit of seductive root peeled away from Bella's body.

He certainly had simpler and more brutal methods, but while those methods could kill the roots 100% of the time, they would also have a very high probability of killing Bella along with them.

This intelligence woman is still somewhat useful; it would be a waste to kill her now.

That's why Irving resorted to such primitive methods.

The removal of the roots is extremely painful.

This can be seen from Bella's sudden arching of her body, her involuntary trembling, and her completely disoriented state, resembling a stroke victim.

And this pain didn't end quickly; it lasted for a long time.

Peeling away the "dead root" like unraveling a cocoon is certainly not something that can be done quickly.

(End of this chapter)