I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 512 Becoming King

Hermione has been away from Hogwarts for almost two months.

It's been until the end of October.

She wrote back several times during that period, sometimes saying she was in France, sometimes saying she was in Australia. In those two months, it seemed like she was traveling all over the world.

When the young wizards of DA heard the news, they immediately put away their wands, put on their robes, and rushed out of the Room of Requirement.

They were just too curious about the truth about London.

Throughout Hogwarts, apart from Dumbledore, Hermione was the only one in the eyes of most of the young wizards who knew the truth.

Inside the auditorium.

A large crowd surged forward, with young wizards surrounding Hermione in layers.

However, after Irving appeared, they still wisely made way for him.

Owen, whose hair was a little messy, wanted to go up and say hello directly.

But after noticing the weariness in Miss Granger's eyes—and more importantly, the clothes she was wearing—he refrained from making the joke he had prepared.

"Surprised?" Hermione's gaze swept over everyone present and landed squarely on Owen. When he sat down next to her, she noticed that the boy's hair was quite messy. His usually neat ponytail was now covered with tiny, sprouting hairs.

She remained silent, reached out, untied his braid, and began to tidy his hair again.

"What? Is Queen Elizabeth planning to abdicate in your favor?"

Irving couldn't help but think that way.

The girl's hair was carefully styled into a high bun, and she wore an exquisite silver crown on her head, its surface inlaid with countless diamonds. On her forehead was the largest emerald, which shone as if it were a relic of some ancient creature.

He was wearing a deep red robe trimmed with white mink.

The Camelot dynasty's disc emblem is clearly sewn on the back, exuding an ancient aura.

Inside was a purple dress made of very high-quality silk fabric, with a wide and flowing skirt embroidered with some kind of flower-shaped pattern in gold thread.

From her neckline to the hem of her skirt, everything was adorned with gemstones of various colors. Her neck, fingers, and earlobes were also decorated with jewelry, making her look as elegant and noble as a princess who never left her home.

This outfit is even more magnificent than the gown worn by the Queen's eldest daughter on her wedding day.

It seems that only the dress the Queen wore when she was crowned at Westminster Abbey can be compared to it.

"For some reason," Miss Granger said in a light tone, her joy barely concealed. "You'll find out in a few days anyway."

"Oh—" Owen responded simply, resting his head on his hands on the long table, and then casually said, "I was just worried that you would be swallowed up by all this glitter."

"."

Hermione's hands, which were braiding his hair, suddenly stopped.

His expression was somewhat displeased.

Why did she deliberately wear this outfit back to the castle? Was she trying to show off to others?

She stared at the boy in front of her and angrily let go of his hand.

Her hair, no longer under the control of the girl's slender fingers, suddenly came undone.

Her long hair hung low and swayed, exuding an indescribable, ghostly allure.

Hermione took out her grapevine wand from her bosom and gently swept it from head to toe, instantly transforming her gorgeous dress back into her usual Hogwarts school uniform.

"Huh—"

The surrounding crowd immediately let out sighs of regret.

Harry and Ron were watching her. Actually, Hermione's appearance just now, although a bit strange and completely out of character for her, was still quite pretty.

That unique and powerful aura is very attractive.

Of course, they were still among the rational group. More than whether the clothes looked good, they cared about why Hermione was dressed like that.

"This is not the place to talk."

Irving suddenly stood up. His long silver hair fluttered in the wind, captivating the souls of countless people with ulterior motives.

He reached out and grasped Miss Granger's wrist. "I just want you to wear these clothes because you like them, not because someone forced you, understand?"

He pulled her toward the exit of the Great Hall, with Harry, Ron, and Ginny following behind.

"If you really want to wear the crown, tell me." He turned to look at the witch. "I can help you."

"Who wants to wear a crown!" Hermione was still a little angry, and spoke bluntly.

"So, it really was someone else who forced you?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, "I just..."

"Tacit approval?" Irving said. "A compromise under the pressure and suppression of various forces?"

"."

Upon hearing this, Miss Granger fell silent.

She had to admit that the boy in front of her was frighteningly intelligent.

Especially the part about human nature.

He could easily pierce through it without using magic.

"To me, this is a form of coercion!" Irving said indifferently.

The group returned to the House of Requirement.

All the members of DA followed.

There were so many people, from all the colleges, that there really wasn't any other suitable place.

On the eighth-floor wall, the imprint of the main door gradually shifts from blurry to real, eventually becoming a three-dimensional representation of reality.

Irving pushed open the door and entered.

There were other people inside—Koyatl, Susan, and Hannah; they hadn't left yet.

because--

"He's back again, just as I thought." Koyatl raised an eyebrow as he looked at Owen, who was walking towards him with his long hair down.

"There's nowhere else to go," Owen said casually, waving his hand and conjuring up a sofa next to the fireplace.

Then he pulled Hermione down to sit with him.

"Tell me, how did they force you?"

Hermione frowned slightly. She still didn't quite like Owen's choice of words. She preferred the word "responsibility" to "coercion."

"The Prime Minister and I talked a lot," she began, "about the world order, Britain's position in this changing world, the interests of the people. He also talked about the Italian War of the Sea God, the Battle of Berlin, the Battle of Paris, and this Battle of London. Ordinary people are becoming increasingly dangerous. The medieval days, where black wizards could arbitrarily slaughter ordinary people in a village to make potions or try to invent some vicious spells, will surely happen again."

It's even already happening, especially after the government and Death Eaters completely broke off relations. Voldemort's retaliation could happen at any moment.

They need the power of the wizard.

Ordinary people need a role model, someone who can boost morale, someone who inspires the nation to move forward and promotes peaceful development between the two races, and the Prime Minister thinks I am suitable.

Hermione said a lot in one breath.

And it will definitely be a brief explanation.

Irving believed that Mr. Hack had certainly prepared a more elaborate excuse, and he wouldn't be surprised if it were 2.3 million words long.

The fire in the fireplace raged, constantly attacking the kettle that was suppressing it.

Soon, the kettle began to emit white steam. He surrendered without resistance.

Owen waved his hand, making the kettle float up, and poured Hermione a cup of hot tea.

Then he said, "Would you like to hear my opinion?"

"Of course—" Hermione picked up her teacup, feeling the warmth from her palm, and couldn't help but forgive Owen seven or eight parts of her feelings.

"Mr. Harker is right about one thing, and that is they need you," Owen said, leaning back on the sofa, his eyes downcast. "They really need you!"

"After London was hit by the war waged by wizards, the ideology of millions of people had already begun to crumble. You may not have noticed, but I did. During the war, many sycophants emerged from the shadows: terrorist organizations, cults, and ambitious individuals, bewitching people in the dark corners."

People whose minds have been taken over by Dementors wander the streets, and countless people commit suicide in the rain.

The neighborhood is full of all sorts of strange and wonderful people.

In other words, some of the most important things that bind people together have collapsed. Perhaps it's faith in God, perhaps it's the worship of order, or perhaps it's confidence in the political culture and military of developed countries.

Of course, many more felt fear towards the unfamiliar stranger—the wizard.

When magical, aliens from afar, who are completely different from themselves, fill their familiar hometown, the local natives will naturally feel disgust and fear.

Their understanding of their homeland is inversely proportional to the number of outsiders. When the age of wizards arrives, the Muggle worldview faces a severe challenge. They often feel dizzy and lost, and they lose their definition of home, city, and country.

"If those living on this land are not our own kind, then what is the meaning of home and country?"

So what is the most urgent matter for the British government and the royal family right now?

It's about creating a consensus.

To bring what is not mine into mine. To label foreigners as British and forcibly declare to the nation that this land belongs only to our fellow human beings, and that there are no foreigners!

"And where is this consensus?" Owen picked up the lukewarm teacup from Hermione's hand, drank the tea in one gulp, then poured a fresh cup and handed it to her.

Hermione stared at him blankly, feeling as if her thoughts were drifting aimlessly in the clouds, with no solid ground beneath her.

She could only mechanically reply, "Where?"

"In history!" Owen rolled his eyes at the dazed Granger, never expecting that one day she would also be so mentally exhausted by the overwhelming amount of knowledge she was being taught.

"I don't need to guess at all," he continued. "Westminster Abbey must have been packed with Muggles in the days following the end of the war."

"There were a lot of people gathered there," Hermione said.

"What do you think they're here for?"

"Um—" the girl frowned, "Isn't it supposed to be prayer?"

"Ha—" Owen chuckled softly, his tone laced with mockery, "When I am dying, all is silent before my eyes. I am surrounded by darkness, and I search carefully, but I find no miracles of divine kingdom. Oh—God! Where is He?"

"So what are they?" Hermione didn't feel any ill will towards Owen's distorted version of God's words; she wasn't a Christian, nor was anyone in her family.

Religion was nothing more than legend and stories to her.

"There is a culture that can be understood by the three ethnic groups on this land."

Fifteen hundred years ago, the legendary king who led the wizards to victory against the Roman army across the strait was the eternal spiritual home of all three nations.

On the night of the Battle of London, a young girl wielding the sword of Gryffindor, standing atop a dragon and surrounded by the radiance of a silver lion, clearly embodied a certain image.

"King Arthur?!" Hermione was shocked upon hearing Owen's explanation.

Not only her, but also Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and the others around her all showed the same expression.

"You mean, Muggles think Hermione is King Arthur?" Hannah said incredulously. "How is that possible? He's a historical figure from 1,500 years ago."

“Not as—” Owen emphasized, “but as—she became King Arthur.”

"According to Muggle accounts, King Arthur did not die, but entered the eternal paradise of Avalon and fell into a deep sleep."

When Britain is once again plunged into crisis, King Arthur will rise again!

"See? The appearance of a certain person perfectly matches the description of the ending of this myth. When people are lost, no matter how outrageous something is, as long as it can help them get back on track, they will believe it without a doubt. And the British government will also strengthen and promote this point."

As I said before, they must create a consensus, otherwise wizards can never become one of them.

King Arthur, Merlin, the Knights of the Round Table, and the Camelot dynasty represent the most suitable and appropriate consensus.

"So—even if you aren't," Owen said, staring at Hermione, "you have to pretend you are. At least you can't deny it."

Hermione was a little confused, but she didn't see anything wrong with it, so she asked, "But what's the problem? If it can help ordinary people out of their predicament, there's nothing wrong with that, right?"

"question?"

"This is a huge problem." Owen pinched the little witch's cheek. "First of all, if Mr. Harker can ask you to dress up as someone else for this reason today, then he can make you do something else for a similar reason tomorrow. You know the salami slicing tactic? It's a gradual infiltration. It won't force you to choose between the wizarding world and the Muggle world all at once, but rather it will gradually guide you to lean towards the British government. Over time, when you make certain decisions, you will naturally stand on their side."

Secondly, people's beliefs also play a role; they will force you to become what they imagine you to be, instead of who you truly are.

Finally, if you actually choose to play such a role, you will definitely be resented. Death Eaters, Voldemort, and even dark wizards throughout the European wars will see you as a thorn in their side.

You're putting yourself on a fire to roast.

Hermione hesitated for a moment before she could finish her sentence, finally understanding why Owen hadn't reacted much to her new dress. It wasn't just a beautiful garment; it represented a complex web of scheming.

The moment Irving saw it, he thought of everything.

He was worried about his own safety.

"But we are already at odds with the dark wizard." The little witch looked up and smiled at Owen. "There's nothing wrong with that, if everyone needs it."

Owen, standing before her, seemed about to say something more—perhaps advice, perhaps concern—but before he could utter a word, Hermione interrupted him. She gently nudged him, urging him to turn around.

Hermione's hands moved through her silver hair, her fingers deftly weaving each strand back into a ponytail.

(End of this chapter)