I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 504 The Sin of the Wizard

Why hasn't Dumbledore arrived in London yet?

Tonks didn't know, and didn't want to know.

If she were Dumbledore, she wouldn't get involved in the trouble caused by Muggles.

They were well aware of the battlefields in Europe, so why did Britain choose to get involved at this time? Did they think they were being too unconventional?

idiot!

She cursed inwardly.

As for Granger

God knows!

She was just a junior wizard at Hogwarts!

"Hoo—" Tonks took a deep breath.

She was too lazy to explain anything to the Muggle prime minister.

She took a megaphone-shaped magical gadget from her pocket; it was a Weasley alchemical creation, a small device similar to Muggle radio communication. It was now one of the standard items issued to Aurors by the Ministry of Magic.

It's not very user-friendly; the sound is noisy, the transmission distance is limited, and it only allows one-on-one conversations.

Those two guys said they'd release an improved version later.

Tonks felt they just wanted to make another quick buck from the Ministry of Magic, because she had seen the so-called improved version before; they had already produced it.

"Lee Jordan—" Tonks said into the megaphone-shaped magical artifact, his voice echoing in the basement.

She succinctly conveyed Mr. Huck's message to him and asked him to return to Hogwarts and deliver this important news to Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Owen, or Hermione.

Whether they would come to help or whether the professors would agree to the plan was none of her business.

"Alright, I've done what you asked me to do." After saying that, Tonks put the magical item back in his pocket.

"Thank you!" Mr. Hack said, his voice tinged with gratitude.

After hearing this, Tonks did not turn around, but silently left the office.

This small underground fortress was surrounded by thick stone walls and sturdy iron doors, and the air was filled with a dull and oppressive atmosphere.

As Tonks walked out of the office, he couldn't help but take a deep breath, as if trying to inhale all the fresh air outside to dispel the oppressive feeling in his heart.

With Tonks gone, only Prime Minister Haque and his private secretary, Mr. Bernard, remained in the office.

The moment the door closed, Mr. Huck's tense nerves and the nervous, restrained expression on his face suddenly vanished.

It's like a stage actor stepping off the stage and taking off their makeup.

"It's really not easy," he said calmly.

He then leaned back and turned to look at Bernard.

"Be a good leader."

"Yes." Bernard nodded, his mind filled with the former prime minister's memoirs and the 'bitter' satire of Mr. Harker contained within.

The title of Chapter Eight is particularly ingenious.

—Jim Hack's double life.

The writing style is reminiscent of Shakespeare.

"Yes, Prime Minister. There's finally some progress."

Then Bernard, expressionless, picked up a document in front of him and handed it to Mr. Huck.

"Are the media all ready?" The Prime Minister asked expressionlessly as he opened the top-secret document.

"Four television stations, eleven radio stations, and newspapers."

"very good."

As the Prime Minister turned the pages of the documents in his hands, Miss Granger's file came into view.

The document's title, in bold black font, reads: Third Contact Plan.

Outside the bunker, the rain in London continued to fall, seemingly without end.

The sky was overcast, obscuring the sun, and with the shadowy figures of Dementors, for a moment it seemed as if hell had been moved to the heavens.

The city’s power system was destroyed, there was fighting between Aurors and Death Eaters, Muggle guns, bombs, and so on—most of the city was dark except for a few buildings with their own power supply.

London seems to have stepped back into the Middle Ages.

On a rain-soaked street, a black sedan was speeding along. In the driver's seat, a man gripped the steering wheel, his expression solemn.

Raindrops pattered against the car with a dull thud, while leaves on the roadside leaves rustled as they were washed by.

The car sped past on the street, a layer of condensation forming on the windshield, reflecting the cold, stern face.

"Screech—" With a sharp, piercing screech of brakes, the car came to a stop on the road, rainwater streaming down the roof and gathering in front of the vehicle.

The man unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of the car, stood by the roadside, and looked up at the raindrops dancing in the sky.

Raindrops pelted the ground like hail, splashing up ripples, and in those thousands of ripples, the same scene was reflected: a building that had collapsed by nearly half.

"Bang!" A piece of gravel fell to the ground from the collapsing building, and the man's heart sank with it.

"No—no!" the man cried out in a daze, rushing frantically toward the collapsing building.

He ran up to the third floor in one breath, still panting, when his eyes were fixed on a door blocked by collapsed steel bars.

Without the slightest hesitation, the man grabbed the exposed steel bars, bent them one by one, and then slammed himself against the door.

"Bang—" Muddy dust mixed with rainwater covered the man's face.

"ah--!!!"

Along with that came heart-wrenching screams and the unpleasant sound of steel rubbing against wood.

It traveled very far in the dim rain.

"Fanny!" the man roared, his voice echoing through the room. The room, which was almost half collapsed, was filled with rubble and dust. He crawled on his hands and knees over the collapsed walls.

He searched for the most familiar figure in the dimly lit room.

"Paris! Fanny!" he growled hoarsely. The desolate room filled him with despair.

"Whoosh~" A faint sound suddenly came from under the collapsed rubble.

"Fanny?!" He was overjoyed, as if he were about to drown in the sea, desperately grabbing onto the plank that suddenly drifted by.

The man lunged toward the sound, frantically digging at the rubble.

One piece after another. Until his arms became numb and his fingernails bled, finally, he saw a glimmer of hope. Beneath the stones, there was a broken table, barely supporting a small space.

The faint breathing sound came from under the table.

"Fanny?!" The man struggled to move the last boulder blocking his way.

Then I saw the most heartbreaking scene.

The table was hit by falling debris, and exposed steel bars pierced through the fragile wood. The girl was pinned beneath her mother, who was deeply embedded in the mother's back. Blood slowly flowed down her body, staining her clothes and the surrounding debris.

The man felt a sudden pang of anguish. He anxiously looked around, searching for any tools or methods that could save his life.

Finally, he found a thick wooden stick and used it to pry up the other end of the steel bar, trying to create more space for the girl and her mother to survive.

He gritted his teeth and used all his strength to finally pry up the steel bar a little. Then he carefully carried the girl out.

As for the child's mother, Paris.

The steel bar pierced through her chest cavity. She still had a sliver of consciousness, but if he dared to move even an inch, the flame of her life might be extinguished.

"Mother."

"Help—Mom." Little Fanny uttered a weak sound, raising her bleeding arm and trying to grab something in her dazed state.

This moment.

With a loud "whoosh," a silvery-white light flashed through the rain. It was a long sword slicing through the sky, tearing open the engulfing darkness.

The man felt as if something was squeezing his stomach.

Unprecedented pain was emanating from every part of my body.

The thunder outside the window continued to rumble, but the man's world fell into a deathly silence.

Every ray of light illuminated the mother's face; she remained beautiful, the exposed steel bar piercing her chest, blood blooming like flowers beneath her.

Time seemed to slow down at that moment; raindrops streaked across the sky but hovered before his eyes, reflecting the final heat death of this universe.

Then, the suspended water droplets finally began to sway, as if blowing a horn of destruction. Billions of raindrops, like exploding stars, shone brightly and flowed upstream from the ground.

Heaven and earth are upside down.

The scene looked like it was experiencing a Big Bang, with debris flying off at unimaginable speeds.

The man's thoughts went blank for a moment.

In his eyes, the world became dazzling and colorful.

Each raindrop was interwoven with a pale green light.

He saw his wife float up like a goddess, the foreign object piercing her body slowly being pulled out, and the blood, like planets orbiting a star, surrounding the wound.

"Recover quickly—"

"Healed as before—"

The incantation rang out softly.

A sudden figure appeared behind the man.

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 held the grapevine wand in her hand.

His expression was a mixture of anger and pity.

She took a bottle of white chlorpheniramine from her pocket and quickly applied it to the woman's wound.

The Healing Charm is a highly advanced spell taught only in seventh grade. It is a spell that young wizards who are preparing to take the exam for a healing position and want to work in the healing profession will learn.

It can heal most physical injuries, but it has no effect on cursed injuries caused by dark magic.

The woman's injuries clearly exceeded the scope of ordinary physical damage; her internal organs had suffered varying degrees of damage, and she could only be treated with Bai Xian.

A pure white little animal was nestled on Miss Granger's shoulder.

It was yawning as it looked at the Muggle family in the ruins.

"Restored to its original state—"

The girl manipulated her magic wand, tracing it gently through the air.

The next moment, everything around seemed to have been rewound. Furniture pieces flew out of the ruins, piecing themselves back into their original positions, and scattered decorations also returned to their original forms in mid-air. The rubble, tumbling and pulsating, gradually converged from all directions, then reformed into walls. Light bulbs, picture frames, carpets—the entire collapsed building returned to its original state in a few breaths.

As everything around them began to flow backward.

After the building collapsed, the flesh and blood of people in the ruins—the living, the dead, and those whose bodies were no longer recognizable—began to be exposed to the air.

Hermione calmly observed everything around her.

My heart kept sinking, down to my stomach.

This family's misfortune made her worry about her own family.

Dad, Mom, how are they now?

As the little witch remained worried and silent, the surrounding mist suddenly began to condense, turning into ice blocks that fell to the ground. The temperature plummeted, dropping by at least ten degrees Celsius in just a few breaths.

Outside the repaired window, several ghostly voices were staring menacingly into the room.

Inside the building, the despair emanating from the gathering of the dead, the living, and the dying was as conspicuous to the Dementors outside the window as a torch in the night.

Without the slightest pause, the monsters burst through the windows, accompanied by strange, unpleasant sounds like metal scraping against glass, and headed straight for the four survivors.

"ah--"

The face hidden under the Dementor's hood is truly terrifying.

Fanny let out a scream.

Hermione also noticed the Dementors.

After their eyes met, her expression turned ugly and gloomy.

The anger in my heart was as thick and vast as the dark clouds over London.

"boom--"

A beam of white light, like a cannonball, sent the group of Dementors flying.

Without hesitation, the girl Apparated and disappeared from the spot.

The next second, she appeared on the street outside.

Looking up, several Dementors were falling from the sky.

Hermione coldly raised her wand, muttering, "Palmtops of Despair!!"

A dazzling light shone forth, as if to pierce the dark clouds high in the sky.

Then a pure white male lion that looked like Sirocco leaped out of the light.

It opened its blood-red maw and roared as it bit down on the neck of a Dementor.

"Hiss hiss hiss—"

The sound was like water being poured onto red-hot iron. The Dementor underwent a drastic change, its black body rapidly evaporating and fading away, as if snow were melting.

The other Dementors were also severely injured by this mysterious guardian deity.

But they still had a chance to escape, so they quickly adjusted their flight posture.

Then quickly move away from the lion and away from Hermione.

The lion swiftly dealt with one, then immediately began to deal with the others.

Hermione remained silent, venting her anger.

The magic power is constantly increased, enabling the guardian deity to soar higher and higher.

The sudden light naturally startled the Muggles hiding in the surrounding buildings.

Most people went to the window and silently watched Hermione on the street through the broken glass and curtains.

Among these, the gazes of those who had lost loved ones, their hands stained with blood, their eyes vacant and soulless, had a profound impact on Hermione.

They just stood there, watching, and talking about death.

It tormented Hermione's nerves.

In those eyes, the wizard became the most terrifying creature, sweeping across the battlefield of London. No matter which side she was on, she had to face their judgmental gaze.

In the sky, several Dementors escaped.

Although the lion killed three, the remaining lions were too weak to fight back.

Hermione put away her wand and glanced at the surrounding windowsills.

Then, Apparition disappeared from the spot.

In the distance, the dark shadows high in the sky resembled locusts, a dreadful sight.

Just a glimpse from afar is enough to make one furious.

The little witch went directly to Westminster, the city center where the battle was most intense.

A strong sense of morality and responsibility compelled her to raise her wand.

"Put Your God on the shield!!!"

(End of this chapter)