I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 548 Farewell

Inside the tent, most of the people were dancing enthusiastically.

Bill and Fleur were the first to step onto the dance floor, winning enthusiastic applause from everyone. After a while, Mr. Weasley led Mrs. Delacour to the dance floor, followed by Mrs. Weasley and Fleur's father.

As a waltz-like melody began to play, even Luna couldn't help but glide onto the dance floor, closing her eyes and swinging her arms.

"Want to go dancing?" Hermione turned to Owen and extended an invitation.

Irving stared in another direction, lost in thought.

"No," he said. "Go have fun. You know the Disillusionment Charm prevents you from interacting with other people; it's just a disguise."

"Oh—yes." Hermione nodded.

Just then, Ginny ran over, her face beaming, and said cheerfully, "Don't sit here anymore."

"Someone's looking for you over there, a Frenchwoman. She seems to be a student of Beauxbatons; she says she's a member of DA, but I'm not sure."

"Oh—that might be Fleur's classmate. I remember her from before," Hermione said, recounting her experience in France during the summer before last semester.

As they talked, they headed over there with Ginny.

Owen—after Hermione left, he got up alone, walked around the bustling dance floor, and went outside the tent.

I sat down on a simple chair near the garden of the Burrow.

There were also several wizards beside him.

The person closest to him was an ordinary-looking middle-aged male wizard.

He had long, slender fingers, and his left hand was covered with burn marks, resembling rotting, withered leaves.

"Will Tom attack this place?"

"Hmm—" said the middle-aged male wizard beside him.

"You've made it too obvious. I don't understand why you're doing this," Owen said. "Are you trying to get rid of Tom here once and for all?"

"Is that so? It might indeed be somewhat obvious." The middle-aged wizard's voice was tinged with exhaustion, as if he hadn't rested in a long time, or had suffered a severe injury and was just recovering from a serious illness. His voice lacked any strength. "This isn't a permanent solution; I just want to verify some things. And—go to a place."

"Verify something?" Owen narrowed his eyes, a flash of annoyance in his pupils. "Verify what? Your life?"

He had already noticed that Dumbledore beside him was indeed seriously injured.

Voldemort's curse had caused severe damage to his body. Few wizards in the world could cure the curse left by Voldemort.

But the one who could do it happened to be right beside him.

That's Kyrie Irving himself.

Dumbledore clearly had several weeks, so why didn't he come looking for me?

He couldn't possibly be unaware that he could break the curse.

The story of Rosier's Magical Injury Hospital is well-known. Would Dumbledore really believe that Voldemort's curse is more powerful than that of the Outer Gods?

And now—now, he's dragging his broken body here—knowing full well that a great battle is about to break out—isn't this suicide?

"You'll know some things later," Dumbledore said calmly, still in disguise.

"I'm not Harry Potter." Owen's voice was a little stiff. "Don't play the riddle-teller in front of me—it's annoying—you want to be Merlin too—or do you think I can't guess it?" As he spoke, his voice was a little angry.

"You've sent almost all the wizards from the Order of the Phoenix and the Federation here—what are you planning?"

"Ignore them this time," Dumbledore said calmly. "They'll leave with their guests once the fighting begins."

"And then what are you going to do? Go up there and die?"

"There will always be sacrifices. Everything has meaning."

"What utter nonsense!" Irving cursed, then took a deep breath, suppressing his inner turmoil. "So what's the plan this time?"

In the original story, Dumbledore found the Gaunt Ring in the Gaunt family's old house. Tempted by the resurrection stone on it, he put it on his hand, thus incurring a curse and dying young.

Knowing that he didn't have much time left to live, he used this as bait to plot a plan to kill Voldemort.

But now, his curse can be cured, and the Horcruxes have been mostly found. Only the Gauntlet ring is still in Bella's and the others' hands. So—could it be Harry?

Owen paused for a moment, recalling what Dumbledore had just said about the test.

"Is it for Harry?"

"..." Dumbledore glanced at him sideways. "I must say, you are very intelligent."

"Tom has had his body reconstructed, and you want to test whether Harry's mother's love magic still exists within him? But how can you test that?"

"There will be a way," Dumbledore said with a smile, "but that's not the most important thing."

"Why else?"

"For you." A resolute glint flashed in his azure eyes. "Do you remember what I said to Principal Dexter in the Divine Tower in the cave?"

"."

Before Owen could speak, Dumbledore continued, "At least for now you can still rely on your headmaster, Owen. Things haven't gotten so bad that the headmaster's student has to face danger alone."

"Merlin - Sea of ​​Stars - Outer God - Supreme Will".

Dumbledore looked at Owen and winked at him: "Death is not the end, but the beginning of another, greater adventure—I think I'll go see."

"."

"You—" Owen paused, then said, "What did you find in those bas-reliefs in the Divinely Granted Tower in Canada? Right?"

"Ancient magic? Magical technology? Historical truth or some kind of prophetic story?"

"No—none of those." Dumbledore's eyes were as pure as a clear spring, gleaming with the light of humanity.

He laughed suddenly.

He smiled at Irving, reached out, and grasped Irving's hand with his intact right hand.

In an instant, the illusion spells on both of them disappeared.

Irving saw a face covered in burn marks.

"I can heal you." His heartstrings were touched, like ripples spreading across a calm lake.

"No need," Dumbledore said. "I've been thinking about many things lately."

"A rare peaceful day."

"I thought of my parents and my sister. For a long time, I couldn't remember what they looked like. Their appearances were so blurry that they were just shadows, and sometimes I couldn't even tell whether the shadows in my head were memories or my imagination."

But recently, they have suddenly become clearer—clearer than ever before. Just like decades ago. Vividly alive.

At that time, I knew that my time was probably coming to an end.

"Irving—" He was like a great man standing in the sun, or like the grandfather next door. Irving had never seen such a strong sense of relief in his eyes.

A mix of loneliness, indifference, sadness, and joy—these complex emotions, like the complexities of his life, were all reflected on his face.

"After thinking it over—I think—Merlin might not harm you."

"He was a pitiful man too. He had nothing to protect, and now you can see it everywhere—Camelot's emblem, the portrait of the Knight of the Disc. That's enough to prove he wasn't an ambitious man, or some cold-hearted one."

"His plan—would not be a groveling surrender. Because he was a man with a deep-seated hatred—more than a thousand years later, he was still burning with rage."

Perhaps—I will see him. I think that would probably be the most interesting meeting—what questions should I ask?

Ask him about his relationship with King Arthur.

He smiled, as if he had remembered something; his smile was gentle.

For a moment, Irving was speechless.

He desperately wanted to stop Dumbledore.

Because there's always a way when you're alive.

But he didn't have any reason.

The other party, dragging his exhausted body, was clearly prepared.

He couldn't persuade him.

As the sun rises, golden rays filter through the sparse clouds, scattering across the verdant trees and grass, draping the earth in a thin veil of gold.

A gentle breeze wafts from the depths of the valley, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees and the fragrance of earth, lightly brushing against my cheeks.

The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, making a sound that seemed to be whispering or singing.

But all of this, along with the laughter and chatter from the nearby tent, was gradually fading away from Irving.

In his senses.

The surroundings became quiet.

A touch of melancholy welled up in his heart, and in that instant, he thought of many things.

It is about death—about the gods—about the supreme will—and even more about man and himself.

On the other side, in the dance floor.

As the music progressed, more and more people appeared on the stage.

The atmosphere was great; the pre-death revelry was so bizarre.

Bottles of champagne floated in the crowd, along with a giant wedding cake topped with two phoenix models that took flight as soon as the cake was cut.

Under the influence of alcohol, people laughed heartily, and Owen didn't see Harry and the others.

Fred and George, on the other hand, were the two conspicuous ones, exuding silliness from head to toe. They were chatting and laughing with Fleur's classmates or cousins.

Ron was talking to Krum, that guy actually came here too.

Time passed little by little.

Owen suddenly discovered Harry's whereabouts.

He glanced towards a corner and saw Harry talking to an elderly wizard.

He had a head of hair like dandelion fluff, and on top of it he wore a Turkish hat that had been eaten by insects.

Owen felt the man looked familiar. After thinking for a moment, he remembered that it was Ephias Dogi, a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

He is one of the few living friends of Dumbledore from many years ago.

“He actually came,” Owen said. “Is he planning to let himself witness death so he can write his own obituary?” He looked at Dumbledore and said bluntly.

"We have plans in that regard," Dumbledore smiled.

"And what about my maternal grandfather?"

"He has more important things to do," Dumbledore said.

"Are you sure you want to carry out your so-called plan?" Owen couldn't help but remind him again. "There's still time. I think the Death Eaters are attacking the Ministry of Magic right now. Scrimgeour will definitely fail, he might even die. Then the Death Eaters will easily break through the Burrow's protective magic, it'll only take a few minutes."

"Everyone has their own responsibilities to bear," Dumbledore said gently. "It is fair to everyone. Scrimgeour will persevere to the end; I know him, he is not one to give in."

"..." Owen suddenly stood up, looking at him irritably. "Fine, fine!"

He said angrily, "I know you'll have a million reasons. Fine, I'm not going to care."

He walked away.

He walked toward Harry.

"May I sit down?"

"Of course." Harry glanced at him. "What's wrong?"

What's wrong with you?

"It's alright." Owen waved his hand, having dispelled the illusion spell. "It's pointless now. That old geezer wouldn't listen to reason. This was a setup he set up; there's no point in pretending."

"Huh?" Harry paused for a second, then said, "Was this Dumbledore's arrangement?"

"Who else could it be!" Irving said angrily. "Once he's dead, I'll expose everything he knows about Grindelwald."

He spoke softer and softer until it sounded like he was muttering to himself.

"Child, what are you saying?" The old wizard named Ephias Dorje, sitting opposite them, asked, panting heavily.

"It's nothing—you'll find out in a few days."

"Oh! Really?" Dogi said. "By the way, you look familiar—you're Owen, Owen Sanchez, right? Oh—Dumbledore told me about you, saying you were his best student."

"Wasn't his best student Voldemort?" Owen said bluntly, directly uttering Voldemort's name.

At this moment, he seemed to have given up entirely.

"Oh—Merlin's beard!" Dorje was startled and quickly looked around.

It took me more than ten seconds to come to my senses.

"Don't ever say that name again," he warned hastily. "That demon, whose name you can't even mention, has cast a spell on it. If you say it, he'll sense your location."

"Really? Some people would love to have that." Owen shrugged.

Harry, who was standing nearby, wasn't stupid. Even if he was slow-witted, he could tell that something seemed off about Owen.

Did he have a fight with Dumbledore?

Did Dumbledore attend the wedding?

By calling Voldemort by his name so directly, isn't he afraid of attracting Voldemort's attention?

Or—think about what Owen just said, that all of this was Dumbledore's arrangement—did Dumbledore's arrangement mean that they would be attacked by Voldemort later?

Good heavens—Harry was shocked by the sudden thought that had popped into his head.

He looked at Irving incredulously, hoping to get a denial from him.

And Owen—as if he could read Harry's mind—said directly, "It's exactly what you think."

"How is that possible!" Harry jumped to his feet.

"Where is Dumbledore? And—we should get the guests out of here."

"No need," Owen said again. "He was prepared. A foolproof plan." He picked up a large glass of butterbeer from the table and gulped it down.

He then slumped back in his chair, looking somewhat forlorn, and slumped down. "Wave goodbye to innocence, Harry. It's all coming to an end."

"Next—it's just us left."

(End of this chapter)