I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 530 The Bizarre Fusion

The history depicted in the bas-relief is magnificent.

If one were to study it carefully, it would probably require countless days and nights.

Overall, the reliefs vividly depict historical events, but leave no mention of crucial magical technologies capable of changing the world. It seems that those who "compiled history" did not want future generations to repeat their mistakes.

Looking at everything before them, Owen and his grandfather almost forgot that they were in a dangerous polar city, as if they were witnessing the birth and death of a brilliant civilization.

The final relief depicts the divinely ordained tower on the Italian coast. Dating back five or six thousand years, it represents the last hurrah of this civilization.

After that, no new divinely ordained towers were ever built.

That era belonging to the gods was eventually submerged in the relentless river of history.

An era has come to an end, leaving only this lost city in the far north to record its former brilliance and glory.

Before I knew it, the stairs beneath my feet had come to an end.

More than two hours had passed since I started copying the mural.

Irving didn't know what emotions he was feeling as he looked at the bas-reliefs, but Grindelwald noticed the disgust and contempt in the boy's eyes beside him.

That expression seemed not to come from the boy himself, but rather a conditioned reflex made by his body and soul.

He remained silent and did not make a fuss.

Instead, they shifted their gaze to the road ahead.

Whatever lost truths the tower revealed to them, it was not their original purpose.

Their purpose in entering this tower was to venture into the 'Abyss' to see what lay beneath and to find clues about the Divine Tower.

They did not stop.

The two continued on their way.

This is a corridor.

It is similar to any corridor in Hogwarts.

Walk a few dozen feet. At the end of the corridor, a simple and elegant stone gate with carved beams and painted rafters appears.

The pale fluorescent light shone on the stone gate, as if wiping away a layer of ashes from history. Like the bas-relief, the stone gate also depicts an ancient secret from the Genggu era.

But by then, Irving had lost all interest in uncovering the truth depicted in these murals.

Because in his vision, a strange light shone from those emerald green eyes.

Light, like water, seeped out little by little from the cracks in the stone gate. It was incredibly mysterious.

He reached out and gently touched the stone door.

As if sensing something, he unconsciously released a wisp of ancient magic. 'Click!' As if a switch had been flipped, a gust of cold wind blew out from the crack in the door, carrying a hint of dampness and chill. The stone door before him opened.

"Ultimate Guardian".

Grindelwald upheld the curse.

The seemingly thin, pure white mist condensed into an oval shield in front of them.

Irving controlled the fluorescent light to fly in.

It instantly illuminated the abyss's forecourt, which had not been opened for thousands of years.

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.

"Are there this many people?"

Irving glanced at it and blurted out those words without even realizing it.

People—a lot of people.

Beyond the stone gate lies a vast, open space.

This is the inner wall of a perfect hemisphere, located at the top of a tower, with a diameter of one hundred feet and a height of fifty feet.

Many low caves or pipes run around the perimeter of the circle, exhibiting a regular symmetry.

Of course, compared to this magnificent and exquisite space, the focus of their attention was on the many people standing, sitting, or lying on the ground.

It's like the terracotta figurines that an ancient monarch in the Far East buried with him; that's the feeling Irving got from this place.

Of course—they are not entirely the same as the terracotta figures. The terracotta figures are lifelike, almost like living people. But these people here are just remains and bones.

"Be careful." Grindelwald frowned slightly, then quickly cast several spells.

They are all exploratory spells.

Beams of light swept across the remains, but they found nothing.

There were no traps, no signs of magic, and the surroundings were extremely quiet.

After several fruitless searches, the two finally entered the towering tomb.

In Owen's eyes, the light of ancient magic was very clear, swirling around him like clouds.

Stepping on the traditional carvings from the end of the gods that adorned the ground, Owen and Grindelwald squeezed past the remains before them.

The further they went, the fewer remains they found.

Conversely, their physical movements become increasingly exaggerated and bizarre.

Owen felt a strong sense of familiarity with that menacing, seemingly desperately wailing skull.

Before he could even ponder the torment these poor creatures had endured before their deaths, his vision suddenly cleared.

A pool of water, neither too big nor too small, appeared ahead.

The pool water was only a few inches deep, crystal clear, and if it weren't for the fact that its color was not transparent but rather a light silver, most people wouldn't even notice its existence.

But Kyrie Irving is no ordinary man.

In his eyes, the pool water shone with a ghostly light, and a rich aura of ancient magic filled the surroundings. Taking a deep breath, he even felt a sense of fullness, as if he had eaten too much.

"This is—liquidized ancient magic," Owen said.

Same as source crystal.

They are all products of highly concentrated ancient magic.

As he tried to figure out the source of this ancient magic, a drop of water suddenly fell into the pool.

Countless ripples spread out.

Irving immediately looked up.

In the dome, he finally saw the root of everything.

It was a sculpture, about the size of a person, carved from an unknown black stone. Its surface was covered with twisted patterns, like tentacles struggling and spreading from the abyss.

Countless iron chains extending from the dome pass through the sculpture's body and limbs, firmly suspending it.

With just one glance, countless twisted, bizarre, and irrational thoughts arose in his mind.

A series of eerie flute notes with a wide range kept coming into his ears, and Owen immediately covered his ears and closed his eyes.

But that didn't work.

Neither the maddening thoughts nor the devil's flute music stopped because of them.

At the critical moment.

Suddenly, he felt a cold sensation on his forehead.

Subconsciously, he opened his eyes.

Then my gaze was completely drawn to a pair of emerald green eyes.

Irving stood frozen in place, as if by magic.

Before him, the sculpture had suddenly appeared a few inches above him, its face almost touching his.

"you--"

Owen's voice trembled, as if something was tightly gripping his throat, allowing him to only utter weak calls. The scene before him was unbelievable; shock, fear, and confusion intertwined in his mind.

I can hardly comprehend the scene before my eyes.

From his perspective, the black rock on the sculpture was peeling away little by little, and then a woman who looked exactly like him emerged from the sculpture.

Her long hair was loose, and her eyes were deep and empty, as if they could devour everything. Her skin was so white that it was almost transparent, but beneath that skin, one could see eerie blood flowing through silver veins.

The chains, like venomous snakes, coiled tightly around the woman's body, piercing her skin and leaving gruesome wounds. Silver blood seeped continuously from the wounds, dripping down the chains and eventually merging into the pool, creating ripples.

Owen finally understood that the ancient magic in the pool was not ordinary water, but the blood of the sculpture—that is, the woman before him.

Irving's heart pounded wildly as he stared at that face.

He knew all too well who this was.

Outer God Ionia!

Owen had almost assumed it was an abandoned tower, but now he was being told it was still the Tower of Godhood. Moreover, it sealed away a complete essence of Outer God.

In the Outer God's empty pupils, Owen's struggling face flickered like a floating shadow.

He had no time to resist.

Because everything happened too fast.

The moment he let his guard down, those frantic thoughts completely took over his mind, making it difficult for him to concentrate on casting the spell.

He didn't know how his grandfather was doing.

But so much time has passed and no spell has interrupted the Outer God, so we know his condition is definitely not good.

In this potentially life-or-death moment, he could only exert all his strength, constantly constructing a brain-sealing technique in his mind, attempting to seal off his consciousness to resist the terrifying force from the abyss.

But the process was extremely difficult. Every attempt felt like being struck on the head by an invisible giant hammer, the pain almost tearing his soul apart.

The swirling, distorted noise of his thoughts sent a chill down his spine.

This terrifying sound could not have come from any creature born on Earth, not even a god. Nothing could compare to its evil and eeriness.

In his anguish, Owen suddenly realized that his previous conjecture—that there was never an Outer God, Ionia—was correct.

This is because the sound likely originates from outside the spacetime continuum, from the "supreme will" of a more distant galaxy.

It is this very force that twisted Ionia's soul, and now it is trying to twist his soul as well.

When Owen finally understood everything, the noise in his ears suddenly fell silent, as if swallowed by an invisible force. The distorted words in his mind began to become rhythmic and melodious, like an ancient hymn praising the vastness and mystery of the great galaxy.

Irving couldn't understand why he could comprehend these blasphemous and bizarre words. But if he could understand the language of a madman, there was only one possibility—he was mad too.

But has he gone mad?

I don't know—I don't know.

The surrounding air seemed to thicken, pressing against his chest and making it hard for him to breathe.

His unfocused eyes gazed at the Outer God.

Unfocused eyes stared ahead, where the Outer God Ionia stood silently, its pupils filled with chaos, the trajectories of stars twisted into eerie patterns within, as if telling some secret that could not be described in words.

Clearly, all that could be seen in Zhi's pupils was chaos, with the trajectories of the stars twisted into bizarre patterns, as if telling some indescribable secret.

Then, the Outer God's mouth moved.

The Outer God's mouth moved, and though no sound came out, Owen clearly heard its bizarre whispers. The whispers were full of eeriness and terror, and apart from the meaningless onomatopoeia, only one sentence echoed in his mind: "My most supreme Lord, today, I have finally returned to your side."

------

It is not easy to find out the truth.

Covering up is much easier than searching.

After Owen set foot on that snowy, forbidden area, Dumbledore dispatched a research team from the Federation, and members of the Federation Wizard Discovery Committee, where Professor Lupin served, arrived shortly afterward.

With Lu Shi's help, a group of about six or seven wizards descended upon the ruined city in the far north, and were speechless with shock at the historical truth from tens of thousands of years ago.

The ancient truth reached Dumbledore's ears almost instantly.

The principal himself immediately set off for Canada.

Then, on the top floor of an abandoned tower, they brought back Owen and Grindelwald, who were in a coma.

No one knows what they went through.

When the people who arrived later reached the tower, there was nothing left inside; the corpses, the pool, and the statues had all vanished.

Even the bas-reliefs look as if they have been weathered for ten thousand years. The originally clear patterns have become blurred, and it may take the wizards of the Federation several years to fully restore them.

This is a tough job.

But compared to the history exposed by the reliefs, this work is indeed urgent.

A large number of people will be deployed soon.

Perhaps this way the repair work can be completed sooner.

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 month has passed in the blink of an eye.

Hogwarts is about to start its summer vacation.

The summer breeze dispelled the cold of the far north.

These days, Koyatl has finished his exams.

Regardless of her grades, she could go to the Muggle government and serve as a wizarding advisor.

She left Hogwarts in mid-June.

The young wizards of Hufflepuff, along with Ron Harry and his friends, said goodbye to him.

Then came the junior wizard exams for the other academic years.

Because someone didn't participate this time, I believe Miss Granger will definitely be able to easily get first place in her age group.

As for Quidditch matches—although Gryffindor lost one.

But they regained their advantage in the later stages of the race.

Ron, Ginny, and Harry became the team's mainstays.

As expected, Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup again this year.

However, the happiness did not last long in the castle.

A sense of oppression, like the calm before a storm, gathered within the castle.

This mainly stems from the tension experienced by Dumbledore and several professors after the history of the far north was revealed and they learned the truth.

Of course, it's more likely because of the person who was lying too long in the school clinic, and what he brought there.

Grindelwald woke up very early.

He woke up the day after returning to Hogwarts.

He regained consciousness.

But this brought terrible news to the principal.

News about the Outer Gods.

Throughout history, whether it was Grindelwald, Dumbledore, or anyone else in the wizarding world who knew the 'truth,' everyone simply regarded the 'gods' as more powerful wizards.

Just like those who are known as legendary wizards.

Compared to ordinary wizards, it seems not so wrong for them to even claim to be gods.

Of course, in these years of struggle with the gods, their expectations of the gods have become increasingly higher.

But this has never escaped the category of "human".

But now—Grindelwald is going to tell them that in the face of a true god, even if it is only a part of the god's essence, mortals are utterly powerless to resist.

(End of this chapter)