I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 539 Honesty

(This chapter has been revised)

"Oh—" Owen instantly caught the key information, "Olivendell Wand Shop was attacked? Where is Garrick Ollivander himself?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "The newspapers say he's missing."

"Missing?" Owen said. "Then it's possible he was taken away by the Death Eaters."

"Why would the Death Eaters want to capture him?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"Perhaps it's related to the Deathly Hallows. I'm not entirely sure." Owen wasn't sure whether Voldemort still wanted the wand to enhance his power. So he hesitated.

"The Deathly Hallows?" Hermione was taken aback. "What are those?"

"You haven't heard of it?" Owen was somewhat surprised, because the story of the Deathly Hallows was almost universally known in the magical world.

etc.

Suddenly, Owen remembered that the story of the Deathly Hallows was mainly recorded in *The Tales of Beedle the Bard*, a children's story collection similar to *Grimm's Fairy Tales*. Hermione was a Muggle-born witch, so she certainly hadn't read *The Tales of Beedle the Bard* when she was young. After starting school, it was even less likely she would find a book of magical fairy tales to read; after all, when Hermione was eleven, the extracurricular books she used to pass the time were already books like *Famous and Important Magical Events of Antiquity*.

Therefore, Hermione had never heard of the story of the three brothers.

"The Deathly Hallows are three powerful magical artifacts that the three brothers obtained from Death, and their story is recorded in Beedle the Bard's Tales, a collection of stories like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty for Muggle children. The three magical artifacts are the Elder Wand, the Philosopher's Stone, and the Invisibility Cloak," Owen explained slowly. "You've seen the Invisibility Cloak; Harry's is one of the Deathly Hallows. Tom probably wants the Elder Wand, a powerful wand with magic far surpassing other wands. During his battles with Harry, Tom and Harry were often unable to attack each other because of their wands, their spells becoming entangled. I think if he wanted a new wand, he would definitely seek out the most powerful one."

"So—that means the children's stories in the wizarding world are all true?" Hermione said anxiously. "I'd better find one quickly. I remember there's a library in Black's basement; I'll go look for it later."

"No—" Owen stopped her. "Most of them are fake, but many more are half-real, such as the Deathly Hallows, the Fountain of Good Fortune, the Fountain of Youth, the Trident of the Sea Cucumber, and so on—perhaps such magical items did exist in the past, but their effects have been exaggerated over time."

"However, the Deathly Hallows are indeed very mysterious, and a considerable portion of the legends surrounding them are true."

"Then we need to stop the Death Eaters quickly. Tom already has such great power; if he gets the Elder Wand, can we still defeat him?"

"No need—" Owen said with a smile, "Someone will set up the Deathly Hallows. I believe this will also be the catalyst for Tom's ultimate downfall."

Hermione opened her mouth.

It's happening again—it's happening again!

He never finished speaking before telling her the truth.

In the past, she might not have bothered with it anymore, because although disasters often broke out back then, they always seemed very distant.

But this time—especially Dumbledore was hurt.

It was as if the shield between them and death had vanished.

Hermione had never felt so uneasy.

Especially when Irving mentioned that the Deathly Hallows came from Death—God—God—again, a god.

The outer gods were watching with predatory eyes, and then Death appeared.

"Hoo—" Hermione took a deep breath, her thoughts in turmoil. Calming her unease, she looked up, her gaze intense, and said, "Don't you have any ideas about defeating the Outer Gods? You always say it's Merlin's business, that he's already arranged everything, but I don't believe you can't guess his plan at all."

"Owen—" she called out, "Will we get through this safely?"

"."

A brief silence fell over the room, the air seeming to freeze. Owen's eyes deepened; he appeared to be contemplating how to answer the question, or perhaps weighing how much information to reveal.

Finally, under the little witch's gentle gaze that could melt ice, Owen slowly spoke: "Yes—I guessed some of Merlin's plans. Not just me, Professor Dumbledore and Grandpa both guessed it."

"That's why they don't seem that concerned about the Outer Gods."

Hermione listened and asked, "Can you tell me?"

The little witch's voice was almost pleading.

She wasn't begging Owen to tell her—that begging was filled with fervent hope for the future—she was begging to hear from Owen that they would be reunited safely.

But—this is destined to remain only a fervent hope.

Owen reached out and gently took the newspaper from Hermione's hand, his gaze following the newspaper's movement until it finally settled on Hermione's face.

Then, he slowly approached her.

Their eyes gradually drew closer.

He smelled the girl's delicate fragrance, a faint scent of roses, yet not pure. Compared to the tender rose, her scent carried a hint of pride, independence, and unwavering resilience.

And that's precisely what makes her so attractive.

Those gentle and delicate types are all the same; only an independent and free soul is truly captivating.

He moved closer to her and finally pressed his lips to hers.

It's very refreshing, like suddenly tasting a mouthful of cool spring water on a hot summer day.

In just a moment, the spring water became restless and filled with ripples.

His fingers brushed across the girl's cheek, then her hair, and he pressed himself closer to her, his whole body against hers.

The lips became burning hot, the act of tasting turning into a demand.

Hermione felt as if she were being overwhelmed by a devastating tsunami; his breath had never been so clear.

No—she thought.

Because this kiss had already given her the answer.

An answer she didn't want to face.

A few minutes later—an entangled kiss, a reluctant separation.

Irving pulled back the blanket and leaned against her.

Then he pulled her whole body into his arms, as if trying to merge her into his own body, to infuse her into his very bones.

Finally, a voice rang out.

"There are two ways to defeat the Outer Gods," Owen murmured, his voice gentle and calm as it reached the girl's ears.

Hermione didn't respond; she simply buried her face in the boy's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"The past is so complex that I can't describe it with precise words," Irving said. "Perhaps we can think of Outer God as a lake."

"A lake fed by an underground river."

"Lake." The girl repeated the two words.

"Hmm—a lake—and every so often the water in the lake rises and overflows. This is manifested in the Outer Gods' increasing influence on this world, at which point two solutions emerge." Owen patiently explained, "The first, and the one most commonly used by successive generations of heirs, and the one devised by the remaining gods, is to pump out the overflowing water from the lake and build a reservoir to properly store it. The Divine Tower is this reservoir."

Hermione nodded.

Irving continued, "There are currently seven divinely inspired towers in the world, but that doesn't mean the lake has flooded seven times. There could be more, because the earlier towers certainly faced various technical challenges. Those reservoirs may not have survived to the present day."

"What about the second method?"

"The second one," Irving took a deep breath, "is my guess."

"I suspect Merlin's plan is for me to collect all the overflowing lakes in the world and use them as capital to fight against that lake."

"Tens of thousands of years have passed. If the overflowing lake exceeds the original total volume of the lake, I will be able to defeat the Outer God. If not—"

Hermione wasn't stupid; she'd had some inexplicable suspicions for a long time. She suspected that the boy she loved might not stay with her forever.

She looked up, her face a mixture of blush and worry, heartbreak and deep affection.

"Don't worry—" Owen reached out and brushed his hand across the little witch's cheek.

He kissed her forehead and said, "I now think the second method isn't reliable."

"Why—" The little witch's lips trembled slightly, her voice choked with sobs. Her body trembled slightly, like a fallen leaf swaying and falling in the wind.

"It's simple." Owen tried to make his tone relaxed and casual. "Normally, no matter how powerful that once-powerful Tom is, he only obtained a portion of the power left behind by the Outer God, while I possess five portions. If the logic of the lake is correct, then the power I possess now should be enough to easily eliminate Tom."

"But the truth is, while my magic power has indeed increased several times over, I still don't possess absolute strength. This is very abnormal—"

Owen's words relieved Hermione slightly, but her worries did not completely disappear.

"So, you mean..." Hermione's voice was slightly hoarse, clearly indicating that the emotional turmoil she had just experienced had a significant impact on her.

Irving took a deep breath, as if to calm some unease within him, and said softly, "I suspect there might be a deeper secret behind that lake. A secret we don't yet know."

It may be related to that [Supreme Will].

But Irving didn't intend to tell Hermione any of this.

Because he didn't want the girl to truly fall into despair.

The room fell silent.

It was late at night, and Hermione was leaning against him, her eyes peering through the window into the deep darkness outside.

She knew very well that Irving was holding back from her.

She was a smart girl; she knew some things but didn't say them aloud, because aside from tears, everyone knew what the right choice was.

Their love story is very different from that of the general public.

She viewed most relationships as a kind of "house elf" relationship, where one party takes from the other and the other provides simple emotional responses—a dull and cheap kind of love.

Even the feeling that many people believe—that after going through trials and tribulations, two people come together, know each other inside and out, trust each other completely, and have no reservations—is called love.

But that's not actually the case.

Just as she has always strived, she wanted to give the little elf respect, independence, and freedom. This was also her attitude towards Irving, and the same attitude she hoped to show her.

They were not house-elves. They were free spirits with great souls.

She wouldn't demand that Owen be completely honest with her, to tell her the whole cruel truth. Just as she herself was unwilling to accept it. Nor did she believe she possessed any superhuman wisdom, that she could be smarter than legendary wizards like Merlin, Dumbledore, or Grindelwald, capable of finding a way out of a seemingly hopeless situation on her own.

In the end, she will accept it.

At the end—between life and death—she will choose the one he desires.

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.

Irving woke up very early the next morning.

He asked Dobby to deliver the letters he wrote to Snape and Roy last night.

He got up so early to accompany Hermione to the basement library to look for useful magical books.

After all, the Black family is a large family with a history of thousands of years, and they have countless treasured magic books, some of which may be useful.

Miss Granger actually wanted to go to the library last night.

According to her habits, that would mean staying up all night again.

However, with Owen clinging to her and playing all sorts of pranks on her, Hermione had no choice but to give up the idea.

When they returned from the library, the two bumped into Ginny in the living room.

Ginny seemed to be holding a magic wand, very wary.

Because it was just the two of them in the room. Ron had only stayed there for a week, leaving at the same time as Koyatl. So when she first came in and couldn't find anyone, she thought something had happened.

"Bill is marrying Fleur!" Ginny finally relaxed after seeing Hermione.

Then he happily told them the news.

"Ah!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise, "At this time?"

"This is the time!" Ginny nodded and said solemnly, "Maybe we can't hold on until the end, but at least we can walk down the aisle with the person we love."

"That's what Furong said. Mom agreed too. The wedding will be simple, with only some relatives and friends invited. It won't be a big affair; we'll just come to the Humble Abode."

"Originally, Furong and Bill weren't planning on having a wedding, since it would be too dangerous with so many people around. But Mom still hoped that someone could witness it, even if it was just a few close relatives and friends."

"We'll be there too," Hermione said, her gaze involuntarily falling on Owen standing to the side.

"What?" Owen replied with a smile, "Perhaps we could discuss with Mrs. Weasley about holding weddings for two couples."

I'm an adult now. Um—seventeen years and a little over two weeks old.

"Oh? You're getting married too?" Ginny's interest was piqued, her eyes lighting up. "Of course! Mom will definitely agree. If..."

As she spoke, a hint of regret suddenly appeared on her face. She was only sixteen years old, and Harry was not yet seventeen.

Otherwise, the wedding should consist of three couples.

"No—" Hermione panicked instantly. "I—no, I mean—too fast—"

(End of this chapter)