I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 519 The Last Soul Weapon

"That is, the Ministry of Magic must be able to protect its people, and that is precisely what I don't see," Hermione said, emphasizing each word.

Faced with Hermione's forceful questioning, Scrimgeour's expression turned extremely grim. His cheeks twitched slightly, and his already gloomy face became even more somber. He tried to conceal his unease, but his dark eyes flashed with anger and fear.

He paused for a moment, seemingly considering how to handle the situation. Then, he spoke slowly, his voice tinged with threat and displeasure: "Hermione, you should know that you are challenging the authority of the Ministry of Magic, which is not a wise choice."

Hermione remained unmoved. She looked back at Scrimgeour with a firm gaze, her tone calm and resolute: "I am not challenging the authority of the Ministry of Magic, nor do I need to, because the Ministry's actions over the years have proven that you are utterly incapable of fighting Voldemort."

"Minister, perhaps you can understand better if I put it this way: it's not that I chose the Muggles, but that they proved themselves by killing Voldemort. If the Ministry of Magic had the same ability, I would certainly choose the Ministry of Magic as well."

Scrimgeour was completely stunned by Hermione's words; he couldn't believe that the witch would say something so bluntly.

In his view, the Muggles were able to defeat the Ministry of Magic entirely because Dumbledore cooperated with them and leaked too much information.

As for himself, the Ministry of Magic knew nothing; it was completely blind and deaf, which led to the failure.

"Why were Muggles able to kill Mysterio? Why?" Scrimgeour demanded angrily. "It's because you revealed too much information about Mysterio to the Muggles!"

"Otherwise, how would they know the mysterious man's location!"

"Oh? Is that what you think?" Hermione found it amusing; after all that talking, this was exactly what annoyed him!

He suspected that he had conspired with Muggles to steal the credit for killing Voldemort.

"No wonder you keep failing."

"What?"

"She's saying you should leave, Minister. You won't get any information here," Owen finally spoke up, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"You are—" The boy's voice drew Scrimgeour's attention. "Owen Rozier?"

Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, a pair of sharp eyes glanced at the child with a hint of surprise, then looked more at his long silver hair.

Scringer was not truly ignorant; the Federation’s Joint Excavation Office’s year-long excavation work had yielded some results.

Of course, the intelligence he obtained from the American purges also gave him some understanding of the deeper darkness of this world.

Silver hair—is what many intelligence reports refer to as the "key" factor. It is a mutation in the organism caused by some external force invading its interior.

The mysterious man was searching for this power. Clearly, he failed; someone stopped him.

According to subsequent information, Voldemort was defeated by the legendary wizard Grindelwald and a group of Dumbledore's men.

But as Minister of Magic, he naturally knew some inside information and had heard that the two young wizards who defeated the mysterious man had...

It may seem absurd, but that's the truth.

That's why he called Irving and Koyatl together; they both had silver hair before.

"I know you," Scrimgeour said. "You're the key."

He didn't actually know what the "key" was, but that didn't stop him from bluffing.

"Oh?" Owen raised an eyebrow, staring at him with a half-smile. "What do you want to know?"

"Owen?" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing his sleeve.

"Don't worry, let me talk to this minister."

Scrimgeour observed all of this—had he guessed it—that the silver-haired girl in front of him was the key?

"Perhaps you should consider cooperating with the Ministry of Magic," he said. "It's not troublesome at all; as long as you can visit the Ministry of Magic from time to time, it will give people a favorable impression."

"Anything else?"

"Besides?" Scrimgeour continued in a deep voice, "If you have any information about the mysterious man..."

"Oh, you're really clever." Owen's smile broadened. "I actually know where Voldemort is hiding."

"What?" Scrimgeour looked at the boy in shock and immediately said, "Where?"

"Greece, Mothrace"

"Mothrace Island?" Scrimgeour had naturally heard of that island; the chaos caused by the Deadborn was still fresh in his mind.

"Yes."

"However, before you set foot on the island, I must warn you that there is a far greater terror on that island than you can imagine, a calamity that defies the natural laws of our world. Furthermore, the Death Eaters occupied that island a long time ago, and you can imagine how many magical traps are on it."

It's safe to say that almost no Auror who lands on the island survives. As for why I'm telling you this? Well—I want you to go and scout ahead. If you really don't care about the lives of the Aurors, then I'd be happy to see you land on the island, then alert Voldemort, and ideally force him out of Mothrace. That way, we'll have a chance.”

"So? Are you going to land on the island?"

Scringer was stunned.

He stared intently at Irving.

His eyes blazed with boundless fury.

Because he no longer bothered to hide his self-deprecation.

"Tsk tsk—clearly, although you seem tough," Irving scoffed, "you don't even have the courage to send men to their deaths."

"you"

"You can see the guests out now."

After saying that, Owen turned around and pulled Hermione back into the house.

The other young wizards also left one after another.

Scrimgeour was left standing there, consumed by impotent rage.

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.

A few days after the New Year, one evening, the young wizards lined up by the kitchen fireplace, preparing to return to Hogwarts.

The Ministry of Magic arranged this one-time FlooNet connection so that students could return to school quickly and safely.

Before their departure, only Mrs. Weasley saw them off.

Sirius, Percy, Bill, and Fleur only stayed at home for two days before hurriedly leaving.

Fred and George were busy with their shop business, while Mr. Arthur had to go to work.

The family was so busy that they couldn't even have a proper Christmas.

Although Mrs. Weasley didn't complain much, the disappointment in her eyes was always unavoidable.

"Promise me you'll all take good care of yourselves." Before they left, Mrs. Weasley hugged each of them and said this to them.

"It's okay, Mom, we're just going to school, not to the battlefield," Ron said, wiping a wet kiss from his cheek.

Harry stepped into the green fireplace and called out, "Hogwarts!" He glanced one last time at the Weasley kitchen and Mrs. Weasley's tearful face.

In an instant, he was surrounded by flames...

As he spun rapidly, he vaguely saw some wizards' rooms, but they vanished before he could get a good look at them.

Then came the others.

In a daze, the surrounding scenery began to become concrete.

They appeared in Professor McGonagall's fireplace.

As the group walked out, the professor, who was working, barely even looked up.

"Good evening," she said. "Don't get too much dust on the carpet."

"No professor," Harry replied first, then drew his wand and immediately wiped away the marks on the ground.

Then everyone quickly left Professor McGonagall's office.

After they dispersed, they returned to their respective colleges.

I imagine Gryffindor will be quite lively.

The next day, early in the morning, Irving noticed a large notice pinned to the bulletin board as soon as he appeared in the common room: Apparition Class.

If you are seventeen years of age or older, or will turn seventeen on August 31, you may attend a twelve-week Apparition course taught by Apparition instructors from the Ministry of Magic.

Those who wish to participate, please sign below. Tuition fee: 12 Galleons.

Owen didn't need to learn, or rather, most young wizards didn't.

Last year, he tried teaching them Apparition. Of course, there are still people in DA who haven't mastered it yet, and there might still be people signing up, but they will definitely be a minority.

However, learning Apparition does not mean you can use it normally.

According to current Ministry of Magic laws, they must take an exam and obtain a certificate before they can freely use the Apparition Charm.

After that, he went to see Dumbledore.

The main purpose was to inform the principal about Scrinker's visit.

And his speculation about Voldemort's current location.

The old headmaster and he shared the same attitude: as long as the Horcruxes are not completely destroyed, Voldemort should not be excessively provoked.

No matter how powerful an enemy whose location has been discovered is, it won't inspire fear. What's truly frightening is an unknown enemy lurking in the shadows.

In addition, Dumbledore has been sorting through his memories of Voldemort recently.

Voldemort wouldn't just bury his Horcruxes anywhere random; certain locations must hold special significance for him to become burial sites.

Or someone else.

Although Irving really couldn't think of anyone who could make him feel important.

In short, the Gauntlet Ring must find as many clues as possible regarding that final, unknown Horcrux. They can't rely entirely on Bella. If that woman finds the Horcrux, she'll definitely hide it away, because for her, keeping a Horcrux means keeping its owner—perhaps already her man—would grant Tom immortality.

Even if Owen threatened her with his life, she wouldn't compromise with someone so obsessed with love.

While immortality is impossible, Horcruxes merely protect one's soul with a dreamlike illusion. Once the Outer God, the master of this dreamlike illusion, is destroyed, the illusion will collapse, and the fragmented soul will either disintegrate on the spot or become another independent person.

Another person who shares the same memories and personality as the original.

Tsk—I should have made things clear to Bella beforehand; perhaps she, who doesn't harbor any illusions, could see through the trap of immortality.

"So today's story is about Senior Tom?"

Originally, Harry should have been the one to handle this, as it would have been beneficial for him to understand Voldemort better, allowing him to distinguish himself from the demon and avoid being influenced by the Voldemort soul fragments within his body.

"Harry should have told you about me bringing Tom into Hogwarts."

"I did say that," Irving said.

"This is the next part of the memory," Dumbledore said loudly. "Then, the new school year began, and Tom Riddle came to the school, a quiet boy in a secondhand robe, lining up with the other freshmen for the Sorting Ceremony. The Sorting Hat practically touched his head, and he was sorted into Slytherin. I don't know when Riddle learned that the house's famous founder spoke Parsley, well, if I had to guess, maybe on the night of the Sorting. This news must have excited him greatly and increased his arrogance."

"Perhaps he had frightened or impressed his fellow Slytherins with his Parsleyan voice in the common room, a talent that was particularly revered in Slytherin, but none of this reached the teachers. He showed no arrogance or aggression, and as a gifted and handsome orphan, he naturally attracted the teachers' attention and sympathy almost immediately upon arriving at school. He appeared polite, quiet, humble, and thirsty for knowledge, and almost everyone had a good impression of him."

"Hmm, I noticed the key word—extremely handsome!" Irving added.

Hearing this, Dumbledore glanced at him in surprise—this child always had these strange points of interest.

"That's not entirely wrong," Dumbledore continued. "Appearances are indeed a powerful weapon, especially when dealing with strangers. Like you right now."

"Don't mention it." Owen rubbed his face. "Being too beautiful becomes a burden. Besides, I was forced into it."

"Hehe—" The principal chuckled. "Alright, I do know that many people in the school have a strong liking for you, even some boys. Unconsciously, you have influenced a large number of children."

"Stop!" Owen immediately halted Dumbledore's further elaboration, then quickly changed the subject, saying, "Didn't you tell the professors about Tom's true identity back then?"

"No," Dumbledore said. "Although he has not expressed remorse, perhaps he feels remorse for his past actions and is determined to turn over a new leaf. I have chosen to give him this opportunity."

"Okay, blind faith, but that's normal. After all, who would have thought that an eleven-year-old boy would become the Dark Lord?"

Dumbledore ignored Owen's explanation and continued, "After that, Riddle did very well at school. He quickly gathered a group of loyal and devoted friends around him. I say this because I don't have a better word, but as I've mentioned, Riddle undoubtedly had no feelings for them. This group formed a dark force in the castle. They were a diverse group: the weak seeking protection, the ambitious wanting to gain some prestige, and the inherently cruel, attracted by a leader who could teach them a higher form of cruelty. In other words, they were the precursors to the Death Eaters, and some of them actually became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts."

(End of this chapter)