I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 509 Voldemort? Dead?

(This chapter has been revised)

The Queen's speech sounded like the last words of a dying patient.

With an encouraging and dismissive tone, he fabricated a rather sloppy lie to the living, and finally plunged into the void, heading towards that more distant and profound darkness, never to awaken again.

Irving turned off the TV before breakfast.

After a rather unpleasant breakfast, he left the place.

Outside the buildings, the earth was shrouded in a light mist, and the city stretched endlessly in the pale sunlight filtering through the fog.

In a daze, London seemed to have returned to more than a hundred years ago, transforming once again into that mysterious, foggy city.

On an unknown street corner, at the mouth of the Thames, the bodies of murderers, suicides, poisoners, and those running for freedom, covered in maggots, lay scattered about. The bones shimmered with white light, small mottled marks formed by the decomposition of fat in the water.

The city's hustle and bustle vanished, or rather, it was abruptly put on pause.

The innocent and the guilty stared wide-eyed from within the buildings hidden behind the thick fog, like puppets watching the street.

When a city of ten million people is suddenly swallowed up by a silence unique to the wilderness, it is more dangerous than the city itself that Owen saw, hidden by the roadside, like a monster. Thinking minds are extremely easy to be controlled by the manifestations of the dark forest. In the insurmountable and unpredictable labyrinth, madmen are capable of anything.

Irving Apparates and Arrives at Downing Street.

This place also has the atmosphere of a funeral in a cemetery, with small groups of suited civil servants and large groups of soldiers silently marching through this unpredictable maze.

Their pale faces and blank expressions reminded Owen of the infernal corpses, which looked something like corpses soaked in water.

Because he had come yesterday, the guards at number 10 still had a pitiful impression of him.

But the other party didn't let me in; instead, they used a walkie-talkie to tell the people inside to come out.

I waited for more than a minute.

Tonks approached him as if dragging a tattered, lifeless body.

The girl's vibrant pink hair had lost its luster, resembling seaweed clinging to a lifeless riverbank. Her white, heart-shaped face bore several deep scratches—not wounds, no blood flowing, but indentations caused by someone squeezing flesh with their fingers. Owen believed this must be some kind of black magic.

She was wearing a tight-fitting leather outfit, possibly made of dragon skin, with many creases and a somewhat loose fit. Hanging from the hem and cuffs were pendants of unknown purpose; they were decorations, not magical items, because Owen did not sense any magical fluctuations from them.

He was wearing a black, somewhat worn robe with many holes.

"You need this." Irving reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, dark green bottle. "Glimmer," he said, then handed the bottle to Tonks.

"Victor invented a magic potion that can permanently enhance the human body's physical condition."

"Of course, after joint drug experiments by therapists from Rozier's Magical Disability Hospital and St. Goman's Magical Disability Hospital, it was discovered that it can also treat some tricky dark magic curses."

His face was cold and expressionless, without a trace of emotion, like an ancient, frozen lake.

The way he took out the potion was casual and indifferent, yet it subtly revealed an irresistible sense of pressure.

Like a gift from God, mortals have no choice.

"Victor?" Exhausted, Tonks didn't notice anything unusual about the boy in front of her. She took the potion and looked through the dark green glass, wondering about the clear, water-like liquid.

"Alchemy Today will award him this year's Contribution of the Year Award for his invention of 'Glimmer.' The announcement will likely be made around Halloween."

"Understood." Tonks did not raise any further objections this time. Her unwavering faith in authority allowed her to suppress all her doubts.

After she put away the potion, she seemed much more relaxed.

She knew why Irving had come, but things didn't go as planned.

Hermione and Dumbledore are not in Downing Street at this moment.

They visited Buckingham Palace.

He didn't say when he would return. Tonks asked him to return to Hogwarts first and not linger in London unless absolutely necessary.

This city, which has just experienced war, is not completely out of danger. In some unknown corner, perhaps an even greater revenge is quietly taking place.

Owen did not refuse. The revenge Tonks was referring to was Voldemort, that abominable monster, who, if he survived the sun's attack, would surely unleash a terrible revenge on the city.

But if he were smart enough, he shouldn't have chosen London as his target. Dumbledore would have stayed there for a while anyway. He should have used a diversionary tactic and chosen a different target.

Turning from the Ministry of Magic through Hogsmeade Village, the moment I stepped into this familiar village, a tense, almost toxic atmosphere, like miasma, hit me.

Submerge all the streets where people live.

Overnight, everyone learned about the war that was taking place in London.

The War Between Wizards and Muggles

How long will this shocking event last!

Even the witch hunts that swept across Europe in the Middle Ages were merely small-scale "chance encounters." There was never a direct war between the two races.

The most recent example is Grindelwald's Malay Party's attempt to overthrow the Federation's rule and dominate Muggles.

But he failed, and his impact on the Muggle world was negligible.

Owen walked along the desolate main street of the old Hogsmeade village. The buildings on both sides had been restored by the Malfoy family's vast wealth, but if you looked closely, you could still find some remnants of that attack in some inconspicuous places.

As he passed by the Pig Head Bar, a sudden burst of noise filled his ears.

In front of the bar, two drunkards stood arm in arm, their faces blank and covered in grime, shouting something at each other.

The group had strange accents, an Irish dialect with a heavy, sticky sound, the notes like a mushy mixture of ingredients. Owen found it quite difficult to understand, but fortunately, Hogsmeade was located in Scotland, and many Irish wizards came and went there, so after a while, he could understand some of it.

"These bedbugs have actually waged war against us; they're courting death."

"Oh, old Locke, don't say that. London is quite nice. If the mysterious man could bestow Buckingham Palace upon my family, I would be willing to accept some Muggles. You know, such a large estate always needs some servants."

"Haha, you wish. Look at your old geezer, you'd be more deserving of a stinking ditch as a reward."

I bet London would be a sea of ​​fire by now.

"Hmph—who cares? They're just a bunch of livestock, like goblins in the fields. Kill one batch, and another batch will always pop up after a while."

Their words echoed in front of the bar, stirring up wave after wave of foul odor.

Irving walked past them, finding it all quite amusing.

Those two good-for-nothings can only indulge in empty talk. If they knew the truth about the war, wouldn't they go insane?

However, it cannot be denied that their words did represent the thoughts of a large number of wizards.

In the magical world, families like the Weasleys are ultimately a minority. Most people have an innate sense of superiority over Muggles, especially since the attackers of London were Death Eaters!

The elite among wizards.

In a world where most wizards can't even use a decent armor charm, if even Death Eaters are defeated by Muggles, it's not a surprise for the remaining wizards, but rather a shock and fear.

Hmph, that's it—wizards live in sweet candy, completely isolated from the cruel world outside by law, and now, the Secret Law shines brightly.

Walk along the dark path.

Light snow began to fall from the sky.

It was very fine and dissolved the moment it hit the ground.

Before the ground became muddy, Owen quickened his pace and ran straight toward the castle atop the mountain.

Inside Hogwarts, the young wizards shared essentially the same ideas as everyone else outside.

Everyone is talking about what's happening in London.

But no one thought the Death Eaters would lose.

Even a Muggle like Justin became worried.

So the moment Irving appeared in the auditorium, he was immediately surrounded by a large crowd.

Countless eyes were fixed on him, wriggling as they looked at him completely, yearning to know everything.

Owen had nothing to hide, so he told them everything he knew. Of course, that was just what he had witnessed that night. As for the underlying reasons, such as the Battle of London being a Muggle trap, he didn't elaborate, as it was just speculation.

"Where's Hermione? She hasn't come back?"

The friends were clearly more concerned about the specific people involved than about an event that had already occurred.

"We're guests at Buckingham Palace. I wonder what their plans are?" Owen replied.

"Buckingham Palace?" Ron said.

Even in the wizarding world, the name of this castle is common knowledge; it is the residence of the king.

"Well, perhaps Professor Dumbledore has something to discuss with the Queen."

"By the way, where's Harry?" Only then did Owen realize that Harry was not in the Great Hall.

"In the school infirmary," Ron said. "Yesterday during Quidditch practice, Harry suddenly became delirious and fell from the sky, breaking his leg."

"Hmm?" Owen frowned, and without the slightest hesitation, immediately went to the school infirmary.

The other young wizards followed suit.

As soon as they reached the entrance of the school clinic, they bumped into Professor McGonagall.

She was deep in thought as she spoke with Madam Pomfrey, and upon seeing Owen, she immediately walked towards him. "Mr. Sanchez, didn't Professor Dumbledore come back with you?"

"The professor has gone to Buckingham Palace as a guest." Owen glanced at the medical cart that Mrs. Pomfrey was pushing, which was filled with many bottles and jars. One of them was empty; he remembered that it was probably used for pain relief.

"However, I don't think the professor will be back anytime soon." He looked away and added, "To prevent retaliation from the Death Eaters, the professor will probably stay in London for a while."

"Stay for a while?" Professor McGonagall's expression darkened. The current situation was still unclear, and Hogwarts needed Dumbledore to be there to prevent any unforeseen events.

But now.

"Don't worry too much, Professor," Owen said suddenly, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I suspect the Death Eaters will remain silent for a while, for some reason. So we'll be in for a rather peaceful period."

"Hmm?" Professor McGonagall looked at him with a puzzled expression, then said, "Well, but the necessary measures still need to be taken."

She thought for a moment, "Starting today, Hogwarts will have a curfew. After dinner, no one will be allowed to wander around the castle. Remember to inform the others."

"No problem, Professor." Irving nodded.

Professor McGonagall then left in a hurry.

It seems she's probably going to write a letter to Dumbledore or something.

Meanwhile, after Mrs. Pomfrey's repeated warnings and restrictions on the number of visitors, Owen, Ron, and Ginny were allowed to enter.

She blocked the others at the entrance of the school clinic.

In the ward, Harry lay alone on the bed, feeling utterly alone.

One of his legs was wrapped in thick bandages, and his left wrist also appeared to be injured, covered with brown ointment.

"Hey buddy, how are you? Can you get discharged today?" Ron walked over briskly and sat down next to Harry's hospital bed.

He wasn't nervous at all; injuries were extremely common in Quidditch, with Chasers frequently dislocating fingers or fracturing arms. The most readily available medication in the Hogwarts infirmary was a potion for treating fractures.

"Keep your voice down, Ron. Can't you see how upset Harry is?" Ginny scolded her brother, her face filled with deep worry. Looking at Harry, she felt a pang of heartache.

"Oh—I'm fine." Harry looked a little dazed, perhaps because the potion he had just taken had left him in poor spirits. He covered the scar on his forehead with his intact right hand, frowning from time to time. "It's because of my scar, it hurts too much."

"A scar?" Ron paused, then immediately realized something. "What did you see now?"

"Didn't you and that Miss Zhang master the Occlumency technique? How come you could still see it?"

"No—" Harry waved his hand. "No this time, I didn't see anything, but the scar suddenly started hurting, more than ever before. Owen—" He looked at the silver-haired boy standing by the bed, his eyes pleading, "Do you know what's going on?"

"Hmm—I know a little." Owen calmly raised his head, speaking as if recounting what he had for breakfast that morning. "Voldemort might be dead."

"What?"

An eerie silence fell over the entire school infirmary. Ron, Harry, and Ginny stared wide-eyed at Owen in disbelief.

His expression was as if he were stuck, and it took him a long time to move again. "Voldemort is dead? How could that be? Who did it?" Harry asked hurriedly.

The sudden movement caused him to pull his hand, and the intense pain made him grimace. But his eyes remained fixed on Owen's handsome face.

Ron stared back at him, his eyes bloodshot, filled with an indescribable mix of hatred and pain.

"Muggles—" Owen said, "They used that kind of weapon, the Italian naval battle." He prompted.

"You mean," Harry gasped, his voice trembling, "but how did they find Voldemort? Without a target, no matter how powerful their weapons are, it's useless."

"That's a Muggle secret."

"Regardless of the process, this is the result."

Ginny swallowed hard and asked cautiously, "Then...then are we safe—safe for a while?"

"If he is indeed dead, then we can be safe for a while."

Everyone knows that Voldemort can be resurrected; he has already died once, no—twice, and now his third body is being destroyed.

"This isn't a good thing. And it's just speculation at the moment; we'll have to wait a while to find out whether he's dead or not."

It's definitely not a good thing.

Now, Voldemort's body contains the blood of Harry and Hermione. Hermione is the heir to the ancient magic he mistakenly believed to be, while Harry's blood is crucial. With his blood flowing through his body, the magic of his mother's love protects both of them. Lily's magic to protect Harry is to keep him alive, so Voldemort's blood contains magic to protect Harry. As long as Voldemort lives, Harry will not die.

At the end of the story, Voldemort used Avada Kedavra on Harry. The spell could not kill Harry himself (because Voldemort was still alive), but could only kill the Voldemort soul that was residing in Harry.

Furthermore, Harry's willingness to die triggered the Love Protection Charm once again. During the second phase of the Battle of Hogwarts, it was precisely because of the Love Protection Charm that the Death Eaters' Killing Curses were no longer able to harm Harry's friends.

In the original books, during Harry's final duel with Voldemort, he said something like this: "You won't be killing anyone tonight." "I've made up my mind, that's the key. I did what my mother did. You can't hurt them anymore. Don't you notice that the spells you cast on them have no binding force? You can't torture them, you can't hurt them. You never learn from your mistakes, do you, Riddle?"

And now—if Voldemort's body were carbonized by Muggle weapons—Owen wasn't sure if any connection still existed between them.

Perhaps it still exists; the protective charm isn't just in the blood, but also rooted in the soul. Perhaps it doesn't; Voldemort's new body, resurrected, no longer contains Harry's blood, so in the final battle, he would truly die.

"At least we can relax a bit." Harry opened his mouth, wanting to smile, but the pain in his forehead and wrist forced the corners of his mouth to fall back down.

I can't relax.

"The storm has only just begun," Owen said bluntly. "If Muggles had the power to kill Voldemort, and if the other wizards in the wizarding world learned the truth, what do you think would happen?"

(End of this chapter)