I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 532 End of the Semester (Happy Children's Day)

“It’s not that bad, son,” Dumbledore said gently, quickly condensing the most pressing information from the history Owen had recounted. “At least we now know that the Outer Gods can be defeated. As for the Supreme Will, it may not still be watching us.”

Dumbledore's words caused Irving to fall into a brief silence.

Because he's right. The Supreme Will isn't necessarily watching them.

Like the indescribable things in most stories.

Tens of thousands of years have passed. If the Supreme Will has been watching over them all along, Owen doesn't believe this world could have lasted this long.

But this feeling was unpleasant and made him very uncomfortable.

Before this, although he had lived in a daze, at least back then, the path ahead was clear. The silver moon shone on a dark path, leading only to death—that wasn't so bad. He wasn't afraid of death. On the contrary, for someone who could live a second life, every breath now was a victory. But what if he faced something indescribable, something that would transform him into something other than himself? What if the path to death was filled with bizarre monsters, eager to devour his soul? This—was something Owen absolutely could not accept.

"Perhaps, all we can do is pray," Owen said indifferently.

In the office, the flickering amber light of the candle suddenly trembled, as if something ominous had intruded.

The lamplight illuminated the boy's pale, delicate face. He had a high, straight nose, long eyelashes, and well-defined cheeks that, while not sharp, possessed a striking, three-dimensional quality. His emerald eyes were like jewels, and through them, one could see a swirling mist. He had a good build, neither too thin nor too fat, and his fitted clothes looked elegant on him. He possessed an air of refined languor. And that was the strange thing; although the boy should have been terrified or panicked, you couldn't see a trace of it on him. He stood there, perfectly sculpted by the greatest artist, the stark contrast between his appearance and reality creating an inexplicable sense of disharmony.

The air grew heavy.

Dumbledore had noticed this long ago.

He talked to Grindelwald.

Could the constant gathering of the Outer God's power from the Divine Tower into one person create something terrifying?

At least since the Battle of the Sea Gods in Italy, the child has not shown any unusual behavior.

So he stopped paying attention to it at that time.

The magical world was undergoing tremendous changes, and he didn't have the energy to pay attention to these seemingly absurd things.

But ever since the incident in Brazil, it's been obvious to everyone that a change has occurred in the boy. It started as a subtle change, but after last summer, it became undeniable.

Miss Granger had discussed this issue with him a few months ago. At the time, he didn't think it was a problem; even ordinary magic could affect wizards, let alone the magic of the Outer Gods.

This was still under control, just as Irving himself had thought. Merlin's plan wasn't complicated; both he and Grindelwald could see the ultimate goal. To deal with a god, one had to use the power of a god—this logic was sound.

But things are different now.

A new enemy has emerged, from beyond the stars. Though its gaze may not be fixed here now, what about in the final battle? The fight to defeat the Outer Gods will be earth-shattering, and if that attracts its attention then...

"Finally, it's about Regulus and my parents," Owen said again.

"They must have had access to the truth of history, but what happened afterward remains a mystery. We can speculate, however, that they might have wanted to use ancient magic to defeat Voldemort, who was at the height of his power at the time. At least, that was Regulus's goal. As for my parents' purpose, perhaps my grandmother knew."

"This solves a mystery," Dumbledore said after a moment of silence. "The road stones aren't particularly difficult to manufacture. The Cult of the Chosen existed before, and some of them should have already come across the truth about that city. Perhaps their research notes are left somewhere else."

"I fear that those favored by the gods may not worship an external god," Owen sneered. "It's getting more and more complicated. Perhaps we shouldn't know so much; there's nothing wrong with living in a daze."

"Someone has to face it," the old principal sighed.

"But for those who are clear-headed, the truth is too cruel."

"Alright." The old headmaster waved his hand, a thousand thoughts flashing through his deep blue eyes. He slowly sat down in his chair and said, "Right now, our focus is still on Tom. There's information that he may have already returned."

"Maybe?" Irving scoffed. "Perhaps."

What good will his return do? Once a person has seen the ocean, they will no longer be amazed or impressed by a small pond.

Besides, what exactly is it that came back?

Is it a human, a ghost, or an Outer God?

He used to see things very clearly, but now—who knows?

Dumbledore glanced at Owen.

He was well aware of Irving's concerns, because they were also his own concerns.

However, after Voldemort's resurrection, the Death Eaters' power structure underwent a major reshuffle, and many sentries could no longer be placed in the organization.

Even Snape hadn't been in contact with Voldemort for months and had no idea what Voldemort's current situation was.

Intelligence gathering takes time, and we have to wait for Voldemort to make some big move. At present, the situation can only be described as calm on the surface. As for the undercurrents beneath the surface, how can those on the shore see them clearly?

Afterwards, Dumbledore discussed with him the Death Eaters and Voldemort, as well as the dark wizards who betrayed Voldemort and joined Tom's schoolmate.

Of course, there's also the former Minister of Magic, Barty Crouch. After months of subtle probing, Dumbledore seems to have uncovered some of his secrets. The old headmaster probably hasn't resorted to any real methods because he wants to win him over, but such maneuvering has a time limit, and Owen estimates that summer vacation will likely be Barty Crouch's last chance.

He then left the principal's office.

Outside, even the air in the corridor was filled with an ominous atmosphere. He sensed that something was watching him from the shadows of a higher dimension.

Owen was a little impatient as he walked down the spiral staircase to the principal's office on the third floor. In his haste, he bumped into a girl.

That was a third-year girl from Ravenclaw. Owen had seen her before. Her name was, I think, Aura Quirk; she entered Hogwarts the year of the Goblet of Fire.

The girl who had fallen to the ground hurriedly got up.

She looked at Owen, her face showing an unnatural expression, as if she were terrified. Then she hurriedly tried to leave.

"Hey—" Owen called out to her. "Where is she?"

"What?" The little witch revealed her slender hand, brushed aside the stray hairs from her forehead, and looked at him with a shifty gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, where did you take Aura Quirk? I'm warning you, Draco, if you keep transforming into a girl and running around the castle like that, I'm throwing you out."

Owen frowned and read out the girl's real name.

Although the other party looked almost exactly like the real Aura Quellk and did not exhibit any extraordinary behavior, he still recognized the other party's true identity at a glance.

If asked why, Irving would say that the magical scent emanating from the girl in front of him wasn't that of Aura Quirk, but rather that of his old acquaintance Draco.

"You!" Ola Quirk immediately looked panicked, staring at Owen in disbelief. "How did you figure that out? That's impossible—"

"Nothing is impossible," Owen said, somewhat annoyed. "Mortal methods can't deceive the gods. Alright—you've put on another fake skin. What are you trying to do?"

"I," Draco paused, then continued, "am leaving Hogwarts today, leaving Hogsmeade Village. I must disguise myself and not alert anyone."

"I understand," Owen said calmly. "You're afraid of retaliation. So, your preparations for the compound potions, impersonating others, also have this purpose? To sneak away from the castle?"

"Yes," Draco said.

"Okay, what about the Aura Quel'k people?" he asked again.

"The House of Response. I gave her a potion of life-and-death water. Enough to keep her unconscious until tomorrow morning."

"Hmm—" Owen waved his hand. He saw Hermione walking this way. "Let's go. Don't die out there, and don't mess with Voldemort. He's not human anymore."

Upon hearing the sound, Draco, disguised as Aura Quellk, gave him one last deep look before turning and running away.

The direction was directly outside the castle.

It seems that he must have heard that he had woken up before leaving, so he secretly returned.

"I heard Draco's name," Hermione said, rushing over.

"Um."

As clever as Hermione was, she immediately realized something and said, "So, that Aura Quirk, she was Draco in disguise? Polyjuice Potion? He's the one we were looking for that day?"

"That's not important—" Owen grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her into his arms.

The little witch hadn't had a chance to react yet.

Then, her lips were covered.

A hint of sweetness seeped into my mouth.

What followed was a torrential barrage of demands.

The boy's fingers entwined around her hair. Compared to the past, the girl's shyness had diminished considerably; her love was now more intense. Rather than exploring his secrets, she wanted to abandon reason and let herself succumb, holding him tightly as if she would never let go, telling him in this way—I love you.

Irving noticed that his cheeks were a little damp.

The girl's clear eyes couldn't hold back her tears.

He reached out and wiped away her tears.

Then, he pulled her away from there.

------

Many miles away, the mist that once drifted over the Forbidden Forest not far from Hogwarts now floated over a filthy river. The river meandered, its banks overgrown with weeds and littered with garbage. A massive chimney, a remnant of an abandoned mill, stood tall, eerie and ominous.

There was no sound from any direction except for the sobbing of the dark river. There was no sign of life, except for a lean fox that sneaked down to the riverbank and sniffed hopefully at the wrappers of fried fish and potato chips hidden in the tall weeds.

Just then, with a soft "plop," a slender, hooded figure appeared out of nowhere on the riverbank. The fox was stunned, its wary eyes fixed on the strange newcomer. The figure seemed to be figuring out its location, and after a moment, it strode forward with light, quick steps, its long cloak rustling through the grass.

With another loud "poof," an even louder sound than before, another hooded figure appeared.

"etc!"

The fox, which was practically lying prone in the low bushes, was terrified by the hoarse cry. It leaped from its hiding place and ran towards the shore. A flash of green, a shriek, and the fox fell to the ground, dead.

The second figure nudged the fox with its toe, flipping it over.

"Just a fox," a woman's disdainful voice came from under the hood. "I thought it was an Auror—Cici, wait a minute!"

However, the person she was chasing had only stopped to look at the flash of light, and was now heading towards...

The fox climbed back up the riverbank where it had just fallen.

"Sissi—Narcissa—listen to me—"

The second woman caught up with the first woman and grabbed her arm, but she broke free.

"Go back, Bella!"

You must listen to me!

"I've already heard everything. My mind is made up, so don't interfere!"

The woman named Narcissa climbed up to the riverbank, where an old railing separated the river from a narrow cobblestone alley.

Another woman, Bella, immediately followed. They stood there side by side, gazing at the rows of dilapidated brick houses across the alley, their windows appearing dark and lifeless in the twilight.

"He lives here?" Bella said dismissively. "This? A Muggle garbage bag. Dumbledore didn't even provide a decent place for his loyal dog."

Narcissa automatically ignored Bella's sarcasm; she had already squeezed through a pot opening in the rusty railing and was hurrying through the alley.

"Cici, wait a minute."

Bella followed, her cloak billowing behind her. She saw Narcissa hurry through a narrow alley between houses and turn into another almost identical street.

Several streetlights are broken.

The two running women were illuminated by lights at times, and sometimes shrouded in darkness.

Just as the woman in front turned another street corner, the one behind caught up with her, finally grabbing her arm and pulling her around so they stood face to face.

"Cici, you shouldn't have come here. That monster has returned to England, do you know that? You're in danger right now."

"You too!" Narcissa said mercilessly.

(End of this chapter)